


Book One: Sweet Cinnamon and Honey

by ataraxic



Series: Blood and Lust Trilogy [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attempt at Realistic Vampires, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Captivity, Control, Cruelty, Dominance, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Modern Era, Near Death Experiences, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Politics, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sophie does not have a good time, Urban Fantasy, Vampire Bites, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Sex, Vampires, vampire lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 89,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ataraxic/pseuds/ataraxic
Summary: She didn't want anything to do with him, but Mikhail couldn't help but want her after tasting her exquisite blood. Even if she hated him for it, even if he'd had a choice, he wouldn't let her escape him.When he finally claimed her, she would be his for all eternity - and eternity was a long time to hate someone. Eventually, she would come to love him. And if she didn't? Her immortal life would be very, very lonely.He didn't share.Sophie had unintentionally become valuable and now she had to deal with the consequences; she belonged to him and he wasn't going to let her go. She could cry, she could scream, she could fight, but it wouldn't change anything. She was his.
Relationships: Jared Albrecht/Ashley Gibson, Mikhail/Sophie Hart, Original Male Characters/Original Female Characters, Original Male Vampire Character/Original Female Human Character
Series: Blood and Lust Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663870
Comments: 80
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Old completed original work that I'm hoping to breathe some life into posting here, originally sold and now made free because of its irrelevance now. I'm very proud of this work, even now. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
> 
> As you can see, Book One has 30 chapters and clocks in a little under 100k words. Book Two, currently titled "Intoxication", has about 16, 50k words and is about halfway done. I hoping by breathing some life into this series I'll be able to finish Two and write Three. There's potential for four books, but it's unlikely. ~~As far as I know, I will post them all here.~~
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has supported me so far. I hope everyone, new and old, will enjoy this!
> 
> New chapters will be posted every Saturday to the best of my ability.

When he had successfully assassinated the leading warlord in Inderhall, Mikhail’s last idea of a reward was a vacation to the southern city of Canton in North Calgary. However, his sire had deemed it appropriate, and Mikhail knew better than to argue with the elder vampire.

He’d never liked the big cities after darkness had fallen—in fact, he’d never much liked big cities to begin with. Being a creature of solitude, he much preferred the ancient feel of a dark, quiet forest without the artificial lights and bustling men and women out to indulge in activities not meant for the daytime hours. Their debauchery disgusted him, not in the least because he was felt very little inclination towards emotions such as desire and greed. His baser instincts more so involved bloodlust and the need to be in control, to be feared. In his rather unique position, these needs were easily and often fulfilled.

Humans had no idea how truly dangerous the nighttime hours were for them. Most of them remained unaware of the untimely death those like him represented because of strict statutes their corrupt governments had secretly placed on them. They were ignorant, which was certainly the best course of action to prevent a widespread panic, but also to their detriment. It was this ignorance that made hunting a much easier endeavor, and while Mikhail would never complain about that, the self-serving acts of the government—obtain power, retain power—were never something he could respect. It was all the better that he didn’t and would never answer to them.

He had little regard for human life outside of the necessity of feeding, but even someone as inherently ‘evil’ as he could understand that offering up the lives of those meant to be protected just to maintain control wasn’t the most ethical approach.

It was a shame his sire had sent him to a city like this, though, despite the vulnerability of its people. He would have much rather preferred to be in the wilderness, where his appearance and actions weren’t dictated by the masses, and he could truly enjoy the freedom his lifestyle had attained him. The air there was clean, which mattered to him although breathing wasn’t strictly necessary; any forms of life left him well enough alone; there were no trifling interruptions to his day. Instead, he had been forced to visit a polluted city where the air smelled constantly like smoke and gasoline, he was pressed on all sides by lesser beings, and even something as simple as entering and leaving his hotel room garnered curious looks, mostly likely because of the hours he kept.

In fairness to his sire, the city of Canton was ripe with the blood of nobles and the wealthy. While the homeless and poor were easier prey, their blood was often unsatisfying and dirty, although it would do if he was desperate. He would have to be very desperate for blood indeed if he fed on a homeless man—the taste was disgusting, especially when infused with drugs and alcohol, as it often was. It was for this reason he usually chose those who could at least take care of themselves. But even more importantly, those who were privileged, who had much to live for and were full of the desire to survive, provided a much more thrilling hunt. Instilling fear within them was an experience he lived for, and the adrenaline that flowed through their veins made the result of his chase so much sweeter. With that in mind, his sire had probably thought sending him here would be a treat. And Mikhail supposed it was, in that regard, even with his previous complaints in mind.

Unfortunately for his hunting preferences, his looks did not appeal to the upper class—at least not without modification, and he rarely felt the desire to change himself to fit the needs of others. If he was so inclined, he could blend in well enough with the throngs of humans going out to their posh restaurants and VIP clubs reserved for the elite, but he found little use for that in a liberal place such as Canton, where ‘different’ was easily accepted by most.

And he did indeed look different than the average human if he chose not to hide himself. Upon turning, his previously dark eyes had become the color of freshly spilled blood and his fingernails had blackened and narrowed into tips, mirroring the appearance of claws. His skin had paled far more than was the norm to the sun-loving southerners of Canton, and he had untamable black hair that had the classic look of ‘rebel’ that so many human teenagers attempted to achieve with copious amounts of gel and hairspray. All in all, he was not what his preferred food group would find aesthetically attractive.

However, it seemed the trend these days was for the progeny of the rich to rebel against their parents, and so occasionally he could find a human who liked how he looked, had pleasing blood, and who could also be convinced into a dark alley for a deadly tête-à-tête. These were usually found at highly sexualized nightclubs, often where kink parties and a great deal of partial nudity took place. Although he detested such whims, they served his purposes and he would not protest.

It was at one of these places—a BDSM club with a twist of gothic culture ironically titled ‘The Virgin Saint’—that he had decided to make his hunting ground for the night. It hadn’t been difficult to procure attire appropriate for the occasion—form-fitting black jeans, a sleeveless black shirt, and a dark leather jacket, with cliché combat boots completing his ensemble. He cared little for his appearance, but it was necessary to ‘fit in’ when hunting in a place like this.

The bouncer at the door gave Mikhail little trouble, barely glancing at him before returning the ID with a fake name. Because of the burly man’s inattention, Mikhail was easily able to cast a small glamour to trick the bouncer into believing he had paid for his entry. Money had never been a concern, but where one could avoid spending it, one should. If he spent money every time he had to eat like a human did, he would drain resources much faster than necessary.

The Virgin Saint was dimly lit, like most nightclubs, but he could see just fine with the vampiric gift of perfect night vision. The club had two bars on opposite sides of the large room, one by the stage where an electronica band was setting up for their performance and the other near the entrance to the patio. Purple and red strobe lights flashed erratically on the dance floor, but the main source of light was from the electric candelabras attached seemingly without rhyme or reason to the walls around the room. The floor and walls were black, with the only tinge of color coming from the white trimming lining the ceiling, yellowed with age.

The scent of cigarette smoke was pungent, even from the distance he was from the patio, and it was only barely masked by the stagnant, humid air inside the bar. Admittedly, the smell of sweat and emotion around the room was strong, but he could handle it well enough. If he had been a fledgling, the thick, tempting smell of blood from so many humans and the thrumming of loud music would have been overwhelming, but he had not been a fledgling in a very long time and was accustomed to his heightened senses. It was now easy to assimilate into the crowd seamlessly without succumbing to bloodlust, even though the club was packed to capacity, and as he pushed his way through the crowd, he decided he could not have chosen a better place to hunt on a Saturday night.

He took a seat at the bar near the patio, simply observing the gaudily-dressed patrons with mild interest. He had to choose a target carefully, preferably one that was desiring attention from a handsome stranger and who had either come alone or with a large group of friends—either way, they had to be someone who wouldn’t be missed for a while. He was eyeing a woman in her mid-thirties sitting across from him down the bar when he was suddenly assaulted with a scent that sent a surge of craving through his body, as though his hunger had at once tripled in intensity, and this hunger would only be sated by the blood from whoever the scent belonged to.

He was immediately alert. Throughout the din of laughing, chattering, and boisterous exclamations, the scent of whomever this human was called out to him. It was the sweetest, most delectable scent that he had ever had the joy of inhaling. He’d never felt blood call out to him like this before, not in all his three-hundred and forty-six years. It was an overwhelming temptation to immediately find this person and drain them of all their blood—this was something he had never felt before and didn’t rightly imagine he’d ever find again.

The bartender arrived with the gin and tonic he had ordered, only to call out angrily when Mikhail abruptly got off his stool and left without accepting the drink or paying. Eyes almost glazed over in his sudden bloodlust, he could only focus on finding the source of the scent.

He pushed through the crowd in a daze. More than once he vaguely registered someone sending him a dirty look for his rudeness or grumbling at him to watch where he was going, but he ignored them all. There was nothing more important to him in that moment than finding whoever possessed the blood he smelled.

A head of pale blonde hair appeared in his line of vision; it was a young woman standing outside on the patio, talking to a black-haired young man. Red eyes narrowed and full of hunger, he was unable to tear his gaze from her.

The scent was most certainly coming from her, of that he had no doubt, and he had to restrain himself from attacking her right upon this realization. The young woman turned around, eyes meeting his momentarily through the crowd. He felt a mild jolt of something unidentifiable run through his body before her eyes then moved away without any form of acknowledgment and continued to scan her surroundings before she waved to someone behind him. The spell was broken, but he knew then who his prey was for that night. He would settle for no other.

* * *

“Kenneth! Get over here!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” the brunet called. For a moment he was obscured from their sight by a tall man who refused to move out of his way, but soon enough he met up with his friends.

Sophie Hart was not a happy camper.

“Kenneth!” she chided angrily when he finally reached her and their group. “How could you even _suggest_ we come to a place like this? This place is horrible!” She motioned to the half-naked girls to their left, who had invested in very realistic but fake vampire fangs and eerily colored contacts.

“It’s probably just a roleplay night or something,” her friend Dean said, albeit a little bit grumpily. It seemed he was in agreement with her. “Who knows why people choose to act like they’ve been recently released from an insane asylum?”

Sophie nodded once emphatically, but she couldn’t help but crack a small smile at Dean’s choice of wording. “I totally understand people wanting to, um, stand out, but…” She followed Kenneth’s gaze and then frowned severely.

“Don’t be such a prude,” Kenneth said nonchalantly, his eyes focused on a topless woman wearing only a miniskirt with long lime-green hair and purple contacts. He quickly turned back to the group when Sophie snapped her fingers in front of his face, and then he shrugged as if his attention hadn’t strayed. “All I know is Leah said this place had the best prices on drinks in Canton,” he explained casually.

Sophie crossed her arms, pressing her full breasts upwards teasingly. She wasn’t completely unaware of the wayward lecherous stares this action attracted, but she graciously chose to ignore them. “And why are we taking her advice on where to drink? They’ve been doing nothing but going to strip clubs and places like…like this!

“Sophie, just _chill_ ,” Kenneth said, raising his arms and motioning to their surroundings. “You don’t even have work tomorrow, right? What’s wrong with a little fun?” Kenneth gave her an easy grin.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, but this place just really freaks me out. I don’t like it here. It feels like so many things could go wrong so easily…” She trailed off when she noticed a bald man dressed in skin-tight black leather and an absurd amount of buckles blatantly staring at her. She opted to take the high road and ignore it, but chills still swept down her spine.

Dean noticed her discomfort and draped his arm over her shoulders teasingly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll protect you, no problem.” He flexed his other arm, showing off an impressively-muscled bicep, and the cheesy grin on his face made Sophie roll her eyes.

Her discomfort was temporarily forgotten. “Oh my god, stop it,” she said, pushing him away and laughing. Both Kenneth and Dean laughed along with her, and any sour mood was displaced. She then asked, “Is anybody else coming, or is it just us?”

“Vikki’s not coming,” Kenneth said. “She said, and I quote, ‘Drinking is unhealthy and a recipe for disaster. I won’t partake in it.’” He imitated her words in a falsetto voice, sticking his nose up in the air to mock their friend’s superiority complex. “As for anyone else, I don’t know.”

Dean chimed in, “Neither are Greg or Holden. Apparently they’re at a strip club for Holden’s birthday.”

“Great. Just great,” Sophie said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m alone with two boys who haven’t aged past preschool.”

“You wound me,” Dean said as he slapped a hand over his heart dramatically, quickly proving her point. “My soul bleeds.”

Sophie sighed and nudged him with her elbow, perhaps using just a little too much force because he grunted. “Cut it out, ‘Introduction to Theatre 101.’”

“That’s cold,” Kenneth said, crossing his arms and pouting playfully. “At least I can hold my liquor better than a preschooler.” Sophie only barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes yet again. While Dean might have had a smidgeon of maturity in him, Kenneth’s allure was based in his fun, party-going ways rather than intellectual conversation.

Against her will, Sophie soon found herself laughing and smacking him on the shoulder when he didn’t stop pouting. “Don’t be dumb, Kenneth.”

“Whatever,” he grouched before getting back to business. “Well, since we’re here, we might as well see about those prices, right?”

Despite her better judgment—even though her friends were enthusiastic, her feelings on the bar overall were still firm—Sophie agreed and the trio made their way to the nearest bar. The Virgin Saint was jam-packed with people and thankfully, not all of them were dressed to look like vampires. At the same time, she found that more of them than she would have imagined had fake fangs that were fitted to their mouths, and if that wasn’t a waste of money, she didn’t know what was.

Beneath her attempt at a confident façade, however, was fear. Even if vampires were mythical creatures at best, she couldn’t help but be frightened of them. After her mother’s bloody, gruesome death at the hands of a vicious serial killer, she found all thoughts of blood and by extension, blood-drinking vampires, unwelcome thoughts in her mind. Even vampire bats could rile her fear. She knew that at the age of twenty-two she shouldn’t be frightened of such things anymore, but it wasn’t something she found she had a choice in.

Unlike her friends, who were roughly pushing past people without a care in the world, Sophie prided herself on the good manners her parents had instilled in her. She took the role of apologizing to those that Kenneth and Dean had offended, repeating apology after apology.

At some point during her attempts to placate her friends’ rudeness, Sophie found that she had lost track of them in the throng of people.

“Oh, crap,” she muttered under her breath upon realizing she had no idea where they were. She had made it to the bar, but they were nowhere in sight.

Simply not wanting to be at the nightclub turned into an active desire to go home. This place made her very uncomfortable for many reasons—some she could place, some she couldn’t.

It didn’t help that she stuck out like a sore thumb in a room full of people dressed in all black—even those not dressed up as vampires still wore mostly dark colors if they wore much of anything at all. With her light green tank top, faded blue jeans, and red heels, she looked very much the part of someone who had wandered into the wrong place—and the occasional odd look she got from those she passed by only made it more obvious. She could only ignore the stares and search for Kenneth’s bright yellow t-shirt, the only distinctive color that would reveal her friends.

In her search, she wasn’t exactly paying attention to what was right in front of her and suddenly, she ran headlong into someone who hadn’t had the courtesy to step out of her way, even though he was facing her.

Instinctively, she mumbled an apology and tried to move around him, but on either side of him were large, tightly-knit groups.

“It’s quite alright,” came the smooth, velvety tenor from whoever she’d run into. She looked up, surprised that the man was speaking to her and interrupting her search. Even more surprising was that he hadn’t moved to get out of her way when she was obviously trying to pass through.

Sophie glanced up at the taller individual, who was still standing there resolutely, and immediately had her breath taken away. She tried to attribute that to anything other than fear, but nothing else fit.

The man in front of her was incredibly intimidating. He was tall and lean, but even though his figure was slim he seemed to radiate something unidentifiable that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He had dressed the part to come to The Virgin Saint, but it was a tamer version of what others were wearing, which she thought was probably a good thing. Something about him made her feel uncomfortable, though. It wasn’t his translucent pallor, which was strange to see in Canton, nor was it the unfriendly look on his face or the red-colored contacts, although those were outright startling.

Their eyes met and yet he still didn’t move.

“Um…excuse me?” she said at last, slightly louder than usual to ensure he heard her. She had a feeling he wanted to hit on her or something, but she had no interest in such activities. “I need to get by.” She motioned vaguely with her hands for him to let her pass, trying to make her expression as blank and disinterested as possible.

He was looking at her intently and didn’t seem to hear what she’d said. The look in his eyes was a little disturbing, she decided—it was like he was sizing her up, inspecting her. Sophie decided she didn’t like it; most girls didn’t appreciate being looked at like they were cattle.

“ _Excuse_ me,” she repeated, a little more forcefully. With all the people around, it would be just as difficult to go around him as it would be to simply go through him. However, she was starting to consider being as rude as her friends and simply shoving him out of the way.

The man shook his head, as though suddenly alert again, and then smiled pleasantly.

She stiffened, seeing the fake fangs that so many people seemed to have here, but had little time to focus on her discomfort when he said, “Care for a drink?”

“ _No_ ,” Sophie ground out. She futilely turned around, looking for any sign of bright yellow. She turned back to him, irritation getting the best of her, and said forcefully, “I’m not interested.”

He raised an eyebrow and then smirked. It was a very different expression than the smile he had been wearing before, and it seemed to match his face much better—it made him look dark, threatening. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Your friends are at the other bar,” he told her abruptly, pointing towards the bar across the room.

Sophie instinctively followed his finger and sure enough, she saw Kenneth’s reassuring bright yellow t-shirt, along with the boy himself.

She turned back to him, blinking in surprise. “How did you-?”

The strange man had apparently slipped away in the split second she wasn’t looking at him.

The blonde sighed. “ _Creepy_ ,” she muttered, but nonetheless made her way over to her friends. After much less politely shoving her way through the crowd—annoyance and fear made for good motivators—she finally met up with Kenneth and Dean. She was in a considerably worse mood than she had been before. What kind of guy even acted like that?

“Where were you? We lost you,” Dean asked when she finally arrived.

“Yeah, I noticed,” she replied sharply. She glanced wearily the empty shot glass Kenneth was holding. “Are you guys going to be a while? Because I kind of feel like going home.” She couldn’t help but be little afraid after meeting that strange man, even though it was most likely unjustified. Asking her if she wanted a drink, and then pointing her toward her friends when she declined? The fact that he had even known she was looking for them and what they looked like was frightening enough in and of itself. At least the others just stared.

“Oh, come on, Soph. Just a little longer?”

Finding a surprisingly empty barstool, Sophie took a seat and tried to force the weird thoughts about the stranger from her mind. As long as she stayed with Kenneth and Dean, she’d be safe. “Fine. But you’re not getting so drunk you can’t walk home on your own, okay?”

“Of course not,” Dean replied with a haughty sniff. Kenneth had the decency to not say something that would likely be a lie, and Sophie knew she’d be helping them walk home. In a way, that was a little reassuring.

“Bet I can drink more than you!” Kenneth challenged Dean out of nowhere, although Sophie had been expecting something of the sort since the moment she had been invited out.

“In your dreams!”

Sophie sighed, cradling her head in her hands. It was going to be a long night.

Then, as Kenneth and Dean continued to drink and drink for the sake of their impromptu contest, she felt eyes on her. It was a disconcerting feeling, knowing that she was being watched, even though she supposed she should be used to it because of her body type. She assumed it was just the kind of thing that happened to girls who frequented these types of places, but the feeling still sent shivers down her spine. It was when she was escorting her completely-plastered friends home that she actually became afraid.

The feeling was not going away, and somehow she knew she wasn’t being paranoid this time, unlike other times, usually when she was walking around at night by herself. She was being followed and with her friends in their current state, they would be of no help—in fact, they would be a liability. She had been stupid to let her friends get this drunk.

Regretting having ever left home on a Saturday night in the first place, Sophie steeled herself and hoped that she was truly just imagining the feeling of being followed.


	2. Chapter 2

The closer he was to her, the more his control over his bloodlust seemed to weaken.

Standing in her way on purpose so she would run into him and give him an opening to separate her from her friends had almost made him lose control of his instincts. He’d had to fight his urges viciously to stop from draining her right then and there. It would have meant massive damage control, and his sire would likely never forgive him for such a mishap.

While it had been satisfying enough just to be near her and indulge in her scent, as it was what he had to settle for when she declined a free drink, he found himself craving her blood more and more as time went on. The moment she left The Virgin Saint hadn’t been able to come soon enough.

It did, eventually, but she left with her friends. He had no issue eliminating the two intoxicated males, but three families to placate were harder than one, and might draw media attention. While the government could handle it well enough, it was better to keep to his singular target. He could manage to be patient just a little bit longer.

From the rooftops, he followed them, easily keeping up by vaulting from roof to roof and landing silently as only a vampire could. He didn’t need to see them—he only had to follow the tempting scent of his prey’s blood.

One after the other she dropped them off at their respective apartments and it soon became clear that two young men lived rather close to each other. First the brown-haired young man arrived at his apartment, then the black-haired one, one right after the other. As soon as she had left the last apartment complex and was presumably on her way back to her own, he dropped from the roof and landed stealthily only yards behind her.

She stopped suddenly and he wondered if she had somehow heard him. It would make things simpler, not even having to introduce himself before she started running, but after the momentary pause she began to walk again. Her posture was wary, however, and he could smell the chemicals of fear tainting her scent.

What a smart little human. She at least knew that someone was there following her, although she had no inkling of how dire her situation was. She was completely unaware that her life was soon to end.

He followed her for a good while, keeping to the shadows and carefully controlling how much sound his footsteps made. The smell of her fear was becoming palpable as she became more aware of the fact that she was not alone on her walk home. She kept near the lights and away from dark alleyways, and he applauded her conscientiousness, but it would not save her.

Then, under a lamplight, she stopped altogether. She took a deep breath, and then said, “Stop following me or I’ll call the cops. I know you’re there.” Her voice was unwavering despite her obvious fear of him.

He couldn’t repress the chuckle that bubbled from his throat. The police, controlled by the government, would not be a threat to him. Nonetheless, he stepped out from the shadows. “That’s not very polite. I was simply enjoying the…view.”

She whirled around, eyes wide. She obviously hadn’t expected him to actually reveal himself.

“Y-you?” she stammered, and it came out as more of a question than an accusation. That was rather amusing.

“Yes, me.” He paused, allowing her to absorb her situation. He couldn’t resist letting some fang show past his lips.

She backed away, not taking her eyes off him and staying close to the lamppost. “I thought I made it obvious I wasn’t interested!” Her confident, angry words were belied by her trembling voice. “What do you want?” The last came out barely audible, but he could hear her perfectly.

Enjoying the situation far too much, he pretended to think about her question. “For you to go along with me quietly?” He then bared his fangs and relished the way her fear spiked.

There was no response to his sarcastic reply. He saw her trembling hand reaching for her purse, probably where her cell phone was. “What, afraid of vampires?” he mocked.

“Vampires don’t exist, you freak,” she spat. “Leave me alone.” Her hand had clasped over her cell phone. “I will _seriously_ call the cops. Go away.”

He knew it wasn’t an idle threat, but it still didn’t faze him. In a flash, he utilized his superior speed to appear directly in front of her and grab the hand that held her phone. Clenching his cold hand over hers, he crushed the phone as she held it.

She screamed and tried to tear her hand away, but he didn’t allow it. Her hand, cut because she had still been holding the phone as he mangled the technology, released fresh blood generously. It immediately filled his senses and he started salivating hungrily. It was all he could do to command her, lest he end the chase before it began.

“ _Run.”_

Terrified and more than a little confused, she complied, wrenching her hand from his grasp successfully and taking off as quickly as she could in her heels. He was somewhat surprised she wasn’t screaming as she ran. Although it was conducive to the chase, he was somewhat annoyed that her fear wasn’t being properly shown.

He let her go, though, knowing that she would need a decent head start for the hunt to be any fun, but more so it was the fact that she would hope she could escape him; when she realized that she couldn’t, her fear would multiply exponentially.

After all, he lived to be feared.

The part of town they were in wasn’t the greatest in terms of resources given the consistently beat-up cars lining the street and the shabby buildings on either side of them, so he decided that her scream of pain would probably not attract too much unwanted attention. He was willing to be more than patient for this hunt. Some of her blood had trickled onto his palm when she released her phone and he took great pleasure in licking it off his skin.

It became clear then that the reason he was so attracted to her blood was because its unique cinnamon and honey flavor was one he’d never experienced before. Usually the taste of blood only differed by a relatively small margin, depending on the human’s health and emotions; he had never tasted blood that had any relevance to human food.

He was already addicted, and it grated on him that after he was finished with her the magnificent taste would likely be gone forever.

Once her footsteps had faded sufficiently, he went after her. He took his time, scaling the nearest building silently and leaping from roof to roof. He noticed she was headed towards a more populated and wealthier area of Canton and he felt a tingle of displeasure course through him. He wasn’t sure if it was the direction of her home or not, but he knew that the more people there were the more likely she was to escape him. That couldn’t happen, not when she was already too much of a loose end.

He sped ahead of her, and then, just as she was turning a corner that would have allowed her to escape him, he landed in front of her. “Wrong way, my sweet,” he purred, sadism tinging his voice.

She shrieked, and this time it irked him. It was more than possible that someone might have heard, and he would have absolutely no one interrupt his chase. She turned around to go the other direction, but the scent of the blood flowing from her hand was too much. Instead of taking the rooftops again, he began to herd her towards an alleyway that was dark enough to be sufficient for his purposes. If she wasn’t panting so hard from running, she would probably be attracting much more attention.

“Leave me alone!” she yelled. He could smell her tears.

Mikhail shivered with anticipation.

And then it was time. The chase had been satisfying, but it was time to reap his reward because he couldn’t risk attracting any innocent bystanders—he wouldn’t chance letting this one go. Utilizing his inhuman speed, he appeared before her in an instant. She yelped in terror as he shoved her backwards into the alley. The girl stumbled and fell, but was immediately trying to get back on her feet. At this point she was breathing so hard that it made it impossible to catch her breath to call for help, so the only sound in the alleyway was her sobbing and panting.

“Leave…me…alone!” she begged through her labored breathing. He stalked towards her, observing her closely. Her breasts heaved in the most attractive of ways as she scrambled away from him and it was strange, but he found himself actually desiring the striking young woman. It wasn’t a completely foreign feeling to him, but he very rarely felt such urges, and never towards a human.

This acknowledged, it was even more a shame that she had to die.

“Get up,” he commanded, his eyes narrowing. She glowered at him obstinately but staggered to her feet anyways, stumbling a little due to her heels. He questioned her intelligence then. Why wouldn’t she have discarded her shoes if she was as desperate to get away at her fear displayed? There was no way the heels hadn’t hampered her movements.

Mikhail pushed this negative character assessment aside and focused on the task at hand. He could see in her expression that she was formulating a way to get away from him. It was futile, but nonetheless the fact that she thought she still had a chance was comical. It also made him wonder, yet again, whether she just determined or simply daft.

He began to slowly move towards her. Her teary eyes were flitting everywhere, trying to keep an eye on him while still looking for a chance to escape. It was a useless endeavor, but he allowed it—the longer it took him to reach her, the more her delectable fear spiked and flooded his senses. A low, hungry growl came from his throat.

“I’ll do anything,” she stammered, backing away unsteadily. “Just leave me alone.” She was clutching her purse to her chest, blood trickling from her injured hand.

His eyes honed in on the drops of red slowly spilling down her elbow to the ground and found himself annoyed that such wonderful blood was being wasted. He began to advance more quickly.

She was panicking now. “Seriously! Leave me alone!” she demanded desperately. He was suddenly upon her and she cried out, turning to run, but he caught her bloody hand.

Mikhail yanked her closer as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her blood, nearly making her fall. He was salivating heavily and swallowed so as to not look like a slavering beast, although in that moment he may as well have been.

Her dark grey eyes widened in horror and it was clear that the only thing stopping her from screaming at this point was morbid curiosity. When he finally allowed himself to taste her, licking her hand wantonly, she made a disbelieving retching sound.

She was now breathing even more heavily, obviously nauseated by the sight of him feeding. She was horrified into silence as he began to suck on the wound, drawing more blood to the surface. His eyes, glazed over with bloodlust, met hers and maintained eye contact as he continued to assault her hand.

“Sick freak,” she spat with surprising anger and conviction—clearly her self-preservation had disappeared with the extent of her horror.

He finished with her hand, giving it a final lick. “Perhaps,” he agreed blithely. The comment riled her and she yanked at her hand, fear forgotten.

“Let me go, you vampire-wannabe! Go be disgusting somewhere else!” she shouted. Her face was pale with fear.

He wasn’t often annoyed by words like that, but for some reason this particular human saying them irritated him beyond belief. Mikhail gripped her wrist tightly and then propelled her into the nearest wall. She let out a loud whimper as her head snapped back against the brick. She didn’t stop pulling at her hand but he ignored it, instead advancing upon her quickly.

“I suppose I would wish I was a fake, if I were in your situation,” he mused, a touch of anger leaking into his voice. She glared at him and then, in a moment of clear desperation, kicked out at him. If it were to land, her three-inch heels might actually cause him pain.

However, he knocked her leg to the side carelessly with his knee and she wobbled, unable to hold all her weight with one trembling leg. As she fought for balance, she spat, “Vampires aren’t real. Get over yourself! I’m telling you one last time, leave me alone!”

It was refreshing that she had such a fighting spirit, he supposed. Most anyone would be in shambles, screaming and begging for their lives, but not she. While she was frightened, she was also valiantly trying to hide it. It was pointless because he could smell the fear in her blood, but the sentiment was appreciated.

He leaned in. She was small compared to him, but not overly short. Her petite form made her seem smaller than she was.

“I think you’re about to find out that you’re wrong,” he murmured. His sire often told him that it was a waste of time and energy to play with one’s food, but Mikhail had never quite been able to agree with that. Perhaps he was considered particularly sadistic for a vampire, but the smell and the _taste_ of fear was of a pleasure equivalent to that of an orgasm. It had never affected him negatively in the past, so he saw no reason to forgo his favorite part of the hunt.

“Back off,” she replied quaveringly. Her momentary anger had completely dissipated in her fear and her harsh words betrayed her actual feelings.

Their noses were practically touching and she trembled with terror, but she never broke eye contact. In her own defiant way, she was daring him to try anything. It was a challenge. She obviously wasn’t thinking straight—at this point his victims were usually begging for their lives and crying hysterically. It was cemented in his mind then: she really was quite stupid. That, or she was reckless, which in his mind was practically the same thing.

Nevertheless, Mikhail never backed down from a challenge.

For a moment, he wanted to make her act like his previous victims. He wanted to cow her into submission, terrify her until she started crying like she should be and make her beg for her life. However, as much as he wanted to draw out the last part of his meal, being so close to her and hearing her blood pulsing through her veins, tasting her warm essence on his tongue, he found he could hold out no longer. The bloodlust overwhelmed him and with the deftness and speed of a viper, he latched onto her neck and pierced the skin with his fangs. All she could manage was a choked, surprised gasp before he viciously began to pull blood from her jugular.

The sensation of this feeding was unlike any he’d ever had, her flavor so rich and sweet that it made him dizzy. Before he knew it too much time had passed and she had gone limp, her pulse fluttering. There wouldn’t be enough left in her soon and she would die if he kept going.

He had no qualms about taking a life, especially if it was his meal’s because that was typically unavoidable, but at the sudden, simple thought that he would never taste her blood again, Mikhail was brought to pause.

Would it really hurt to let this one live? He didn’t have to keep her alive for too long, just till the end of his time in Canton. It was more than likely that he’d never find blood like this again—what was the harm in taking the time to enjoy it fully?

Making his decision abruptly, he pulled away from her neck and lapped at the bite mark, savoring the last traces he would taste that night and letting his saliva help the wound scab over. It would leave a nasty bruise and would serve to show her when she awoke that this encounter hadn’t been a bad dream. The mark would prove his existence to her—she couldn’t be allowed to forget him when he would be back to visit her many times before his vacation was over.

It was then that he realized he didn’t know her name, her address, or any of the details necessary to keep her in line. Annoying, but easily fixed.

Allowing her unconscious form drop to the ground carelessly, he retrieved the purse she’d unthinkingly dropped when he’d slammed her into the wall. Upon finding her ID, he was able to ascertain her name, age, address, and everything he would need for the future months he had of vacation.

Name: Sophie Hart. Age: 22. Address: 2027 Celestial Grove, Ste. 3.

There was more information, but most of it was easily discerned from simply meeting her, such as hair color, eye color, height, and so on. He noticed how her blood type was AB. How coincidental and yet unsurprising—AB had always been his favorite.

Tucking the ID back into her wallet and the wallet back into her purse, he observed the unconscious young woman in front of him. Looking at her more closely, he reasoned it was only natural that he desired her for more than just her delicious blood. She was curvaceous nearly to a fault, with a slim waist but wide hips and a generous bosom. Her face simply accentuated her already-pleasing body with full lips, a cute, feminine nose, and high cheekbones. She dressed strangely conservatively for her body—certainly she knew that if she took advantage of her looks, she could woo any man she wanted into submission?

Then again, it was perhaps for the best that she dressed as she did because he felt oddly possessive of her, disliking the thought of any other seeing what she had to offer. He considered the situation—he desired her, and it was distasteful to think of any other male knowing her that way. What did he have to lose if he decided to experience all she had to offer? He had never experienced this kind of possessiveness in the past, at least not towards a living being, so it somewhat unsettled him that he was feeling it now. However, it was a useless thought and so he pushed it from his mind.

His thoughts trailed back to the two young men. For their sakes, he hoped that neither were romantically attached to her, because the last thing he was going to do was share. This Sophie Hart only had a month or two left until her inevitable expiration by his hand and he intended to make the most of it. There was no way he would permit her to be with another man.

Mikhail hoisted the unconscious girl up and took to the rooftops again, trying to call up on what little he knew of Canton so far to get an idea of where she lived. It would not do to have someone seeing him carrying a limp body, especially given how battered she looked. In all honesty, he hadn’t hurt her much, but the blood from her hand had caked and dried and her clothes were dirty from her fall. All in all, she was a bit of a mess. Then there was the mark on her neck. To those who did not believe in vampires, the bruise would be mistaken for strangulation.

Remembering her zip code from the ID card, he found that with a little wandering he found the direction that led to her apartment. He smirked when he realized that she had been purposely leading him away from her home. It was an easy matter to get there, and he climbed easily over the gates that guarded the community—he found they were townhomes, which was also very convenient, just like many things seemed to be in this situation. Less contact with neighbors meant less chance of being caught or discovered. The whole thing was turning out to be rather ideal and it all brought forth the thought of fate.

Pleased, he found her home with little issue and, withdrawing her keys from her purse, entered the abode.

It was a small but pleasant place to live. A single bed in a single room on the second story and the lack of any other strong human scents signified that she lived alone, which made things, yet again, so much simpler. Upon entering her room, he laid her on her bed. Leaving her there, he checked the refrigerator and found that while she did not have orange juice, something ideal for someone who’d just had the majority of their blood drained, she had a few other helpful drinks and foods that would aid a quick recovery. Still, she would need to purchase certain foods to help spur on her blood production.

Deciding that his job—making sure she healed quickly and was full of blood to spare for a later date—was sufficiently completed, Mikhail went on to a slightly more pressing matter.

He’d never left a victim alive before, but he knew logically that someone who survived an attack would want to tell someone—anyone—about what had happened for fear of it happening again. His prey could not be allowed such liberties.

In the end, it was a simple matter of threatening her friend’s lives. Since she’d brought them home first, he had a good idea of where they lived and it would be easy to eliminate them. A quick, scrawled note outlining the threat that would result in her silence concerning her attack, as well as orders about what to eat for a speedy recovery, was posted to the refrigerator. For her friend’s sakes, he hoped she found the note before she said anything because he was completely willing to kill one of them as an example to make sure she understood the severity of her situation. If in the more likely case she told the police, he wasn’t worried. She’d likely be sworn to silence despite her situation—the government was very strict on keeping the existence of vampires a secret.

Convinced that his prey’s compliance was ensured, Mikhail locked her door from the interior and then left through the window, leaving it open so she knew that the attack, the threat, and his ongoing presence in her life were not figments of her imagination.

Thoroughly satisfied with this new turn of events, Mikhail was not averse to taking a leisurely stroll back to his hotel room on the opposite side of town.


	3. Chapter 3

A light breeze and warm rays of sunlight woke Sophie from her slumber, and the first thing she knew upon awakening was pain.

It was all over her body; she felt weak and achy everywhere. Her right hand pulsed from what she assumed was an angry wound and her neck throbbed—she could hardly move her head without terrible punishment for her efforts. She felt cold and hot at the same time, her hands clammy and her forehead heated. She had a fever, but why?

What had happened last night?

She recalled Kenneth calling her up about the bar that had the best happy hour prices in Canton and had shown up at nine, as they had agreed upon, but Kenneth had been late. They had met up and then her friends had gotten ridiculously drunk, which had been very annoying at the time. She remembered a feeling of discomfort from being at the club, something she had done nothing to alleviate with alcohol. But if she hadn’t had anything to drink, why did she feel this way?

Red eyes flashed in her memory and Sophie let out a startled yelp that made her cringe from the sudden movement of her neck. She remembered now. It was the vampire-wannabe who seemed more authentic than was probably appropriate.

Lifting a hand to her neck, she gingerly touched the part that hurt the worst. Two small scabs, evenly placed apart, were at the center of her pain.

Her eyes widened in fear and she couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine. Just how much had been real about the impossible encounter with a play-pretend vampire?

Trying to move as little as possible because doing so was painful, she lifted her other hand, which had been holding her cell phone as it had been crushed. She winced at the jagged gash that had resulted from the destruction of her phone and the aching in her bones that the movement caused. Looking back, she was lucky nothing her in hand had been broken. She remembered it had been bleeding, but the man—no, _vampire_ —had licked it clean before he had bitten her.

Oh dear god.

Sophie leaned over the side of the bed, awkwardly rolling off, before staggering to her bathroom despite the prompt wave of dizziness and barely made it in time to vomit into the toilet. Even as her body screamed at her for the sudden, unwanted movements, she couldn’t help but empty her stomach heedlessly. It made her neck pulsate with pain, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Was this what they called shock after a traumatizing event? She didn’t know because she had never had something so horrifying happen to her before. There had been the time she had heard about her mother’s death, but that did not compare to this in any way.

Forcing herself up from the toilet seat and flushing last night’s dinner down the drain, she stood shakily and inspected herself in the mirror, but only after leaning on her sink to wait out the dizziness that had overcome her upon standing so abruptly.

She was, putting it lightly, a mess.

Her light blonde hair was mussed and bedraggled, and there were dark bags under her eyes. It appeared that half her neck was a mottled purplish-blue, the bruise darkening on all sides until it met with two small, circular scabs, though she absently noted that they were bigger than the vampire’s fangs had appeared at first glance.

Her clothes were rumpled and dirty and her feet ached from running in her heels, which she noted she still wore. It was a miracle she hadn’t tripped and fallen on her way to the bathroom. However, the worst part of everything was the overwhelming weakness she felt in her body. She stumbled towards her medicine cabinet to procure some aspirin for her pain and fever before walking back into her bedroom after she quickly removed the heels. The endeavor made her lightheaded.

She collapsed on her bed, trying to ignore the terrible pain that her neck emanated with every inhalation of air. It was then, when a gust of warm air came through her window that two things that she had not noticed before clicked into place.

Firstly, the last thing she knew was the strange man—no, vampire—biting her. She assumed she’d fainted at some point, which meant there was no way she had made it home by herself. She had no recollection of anything from the point when she had passed out until she’d awoken just a little while ago.

Secondly, and probably more importantly, the window was open—an unorthodox escape route for anyone. Most people couldn’t nonchalantly jump down from the second story of a building, but she wasn’t sure about supposed vampires. She had very little knowledge of what they were capable of.

She could only imagine that the vampire had been who brought her home. Her eyes widened in abject terror.

That meant he knew where she lived.

Sophie’s stomach churned, horrified to come to such a realization. Did all vampires take their victims home after…whatever it was that he had done? Eating? Feeding? Draining someone of their blood?

She hoped so, because the mere thought that whoever he was had gone to extra lengths to do take her home, incidentally finding out where she lived—well, it didn’t seem like such a good thing. Sophie decided that she was lucky to be alive, but she was alarmed that anybody as dangerous as this person knew where she lived.

After the shock of realizing what had happened started to wear off enough that she was functional again, she found that she was ravenously hungry. Slowly making her way from her bedroom, down the stairs, and to the kitchen proved to be quite difficult, given that her head started spinning if she moved too quickly and her knees threatened to give out if she didn’t lean heavily on the banister. However, soon enough she made it to the kitchen and the first thing on her agenda was to get a nice, cold glass of water.

The cool liquid was refreshingly wonderful. Sophie didn’t think she had ever had a glass of water that had tasted so good in her life. Next up was a bowl of cereal—she was too weak to make anything fancy and she simply needed to get something to assuage her empty stomach until she could think more clearly.

Then, of course, she would contact the police. Or Kenneth. Or Dean. Or Vikki— _anybody_ who could help her. She wasn’t sure if they would believe the vampire part of her story, but she assumed the giant bruise and two bite marks on her neck would be telling enough.

She had pulled out the cereal, a bowl, and a spoon before going to the refrigerator for milk. Upon seeing a piece of paper taped to the door, however, she froze. That had _not_ been there before and that jagged but somehow neat handwriting wasn’t familiar to her.

With trembling hands, she pulled the note off the refrigerator and uneasily began to read.

_Sophie—_

_I’ve gone to the trouble of keeping you alive, fortunately for you. You have had most of your blood drained. I expect you to go to every length to replenish it as quickly as possible and I’ve listed foods that will speed up the process. If you want to stay useful to me and thereby alive, I suggest you follow my instructions._

_By keeping you alive, you are consequently a liability. I have no time to deal with liabilities, so when it comes to anything regarding our meetings, **you will** **not say a word to anyone**_ **.** _Should this become an issue, I will kill anyone you have told indiscriminately—and your friends will suffer, as well. Your black-haired friend—Dean?—will die first should you tell anyone. If I recall correctly, he lives at Terra Costa Apartments. I assume that you value their lives, so I trust there will not be a problem?_

_I will see you at 9pm at your home Tuesday. I expect you to be there **alone**. Should you bring anyone uninvited, I will kill them._

_It is your choice whether or not to believe me, but remember that I will not be responsible for my actions if you make the wrong decision._

_Regards,_

_Mikhail_

She dropped the note in horror at the same time as it felt as though the floor was dropping out from beneath her. She stood there, frozen, suddenly hoping with all her might that this was just a horrible dream and that she would wake up _right now_ , and that her neck wouldn’t hurt, her body wouldn’t ache, and her hand wouldn’t throb.

She was suddenly leaning heavily against the refrigerator with tears pouring from her eyes. She sobbed helplessly, completely at a loss as to how she was going to handle this sudden upheaval of her life.

Contacting the police, contacting her friends, contacting _anyone_ was completely out of the question now. Even if she did have her phone there was nothing she could do with the information she had suddenly had dumped on her.

The thought was still having difficulty settling in her mind. _Vampires existed?_ There was no way. It was impossible, despite the evidence to the contrary.

The pain in her neck didn’t lie. The weakness of her body didn’t lie. The note on the refrigerator, now settled on the floor by her feet, _did not lie_.

Even if there was a way to justify everything else about the situation, she couldn’t forget his strangely enhanced speed and his otherworldly strength. With just the flick of his wrist he had slammed her into a wall—lifting her hand to the back of her head, she noted that yes, there was a small bump there from where she had collided with the brick building. It didn’t hurt unless she touched it, however, and given all the pain she was in otherwise, she found she wasn’t particularly interested in provoking the little wound. Dropping her hand, Sophie tried to figure out her next move.

Slowly, she picked up the note again, forcing herself to reread it and analyze every little detail—maybe there was a clue or something hidden within the handwriting, but she could find nothing other than terrifying threats. On the back of the note she found the list of foods he had instructed her to eat and found that spinach, tofu, lima beans and chickpeas were all there, as well as kale, which was underlined several times. Of course, because they were a good source of iron, which was clearly important for blood and its production. Lean meat was also on the list, as well as other foods that would help her regain her strength.

She didn’t have a lot of what was mentioned available to her in her home, so it was decided that after she ate her bowl of cereal, she would go grocery shopping and also replace her phone. She had to distract herself from what had happened, even if her body protested every movement; she didn’t want to dwell on such dark thoughts lest they drag her under.

If she remembered correctly, she had a warranty on the phone, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get a new one. She had lost a lot of numbers though, and they would be a little more difficult to get back. As far as she knew, her phone was a mangled piece of metal and wire that was useless to just about anybody, so if it had been found it had either been thrown in the garbage or ignored altogether.

It was a good thing she had made it a point of memorizing Kenneth, Gray, and her best friend Ashley’s phone numbers.

Then, after all the menial things were done, she wound figure out a way to deal with the vampire who insisted on seeing her again— _Mikhail_. She wasn’t ready to consider her options just yet as she had to take care of the basics first. But she absolutely would find a way to deal with him. There was no other option—she couldn’t allow her friends’ lives to stay in danger and she really didn’t think she could handle seeing him again. He had decided to keep her alive so far, but what if that changed? What if he decided she wasn’t worth the trouble? More than ever, her run-in with him the night before had proved to her one thing.

She wasn’t ready to die just yet.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, that Sunday passed in a blur. After picking up her groceries and getting her new phone—the warranty was thankfully still active, so she only had to pay a little money to obtain a new one—she headed home.

The first thing she did was make herself a spinach and kale salad and cook some of the sirloin steak she had bought from the store. She hated to follow any of the instructions her vampire stalker had given her, but she figured that he would know best what would help with blood loss and she would need all her strength to deal with the wreck that was now her life.

Although she had retained enough of her mental faculties to go about running errands and managed to keep herself composed enough to pass for normal, Sophie was still reeling in shock. Her entire world, her entire reality had just been upended. Vampires existed? How many other supernatural creatures were out there that nobody knew about? Should she believe this Mikhail, who was threatening her friends’ lives and her wellbeing? Should she ignore his threat and do what she knew was the right thing by telling the police and warning her friends? On the other hand, should she listen to this strange man’s words and follow his rules, given his threats against her friends’ lives and the very real fact that he had made two very precise wounds on her neck with just his canines, managing to nearly kill her in the process?

Was this even real? Was she dreaming?

No answers were forthcoming except for the fact that the pain in her neck and the effects of blood loss on her body were very real. She turned it over in her head many times and each time she came to the same conclusion: vampires existed and she had no idea what her vampire stalker was capable of. The only things she knew about vampires were what she had heard about from the release commercial for fictional horror novel about them, but strangely enough a few days after the book’s release it was banned by the government and taken off the shelves permanently. She wouldn’t have read it anyway because of her aversion to blood and gore, but in the end she wished she would have if only to get a little bit of an idea what she was working with Wasn’t there always that grain of truth, even in fiction? When she got some free time, she would have to go to the library and see if there was anything at all that could illuminate her situation.

She gave up thinking and took her dinner off the stove.

It turned out that Mikhail had not lied. After eating the meal rich with protein and iron, she was feeling a lot better than she would have expected.

Then, of course, the texts came in like an avalanche just after she took her phone off the charger and turned it on.

As she responded to Kenneth’s incessant texts—most of them of an unimportant, menial nature—Sophie almost felt as though her life had returned to normal. Then her eyes would stray to the note that she had left on her dining room table and she would be reminded that she was not out of the woods just yet. Things would not go back to normal unless she found a way to deal with this newest threat.

But what could she really do?

It occurred to her somewhere along the line that if vampires really existed, surely someone who was not a vampire knew of them? There had to be some kind of human retaliation—people who went after them or something? She refused to believe that humans were entirely without defense of their kind.

The more difficult matter was finding out how to contact such people. Even with her laptop, she was almost positive that a search engine would be unable to give her any real results to her problem. Most would likely be a fake or a scam because really, who _actually_ believed in vampires? Nonetheless, after putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she found herself typing ‘vampires’ into the search engine on her computer. The results were surprisingly pitiful and she barely found out anything she hadn’t already known: vampires drank blood, sunlight was a weakness to them, and they had super strength and speed.

She pushed all thought about her situation away, and feeling almost normal at last because most of the pain was gone except what came from her actual wounds, specifically the bite on her neck, Sophie decided a shower was in order. While usually caring about what society thought of her appearance, other than changing pants and donning a scarf despite the still-warm autumnal weather, Sophie had headed out from her house as-is. However, now that everything felt a little more normal, it was important she become presentable.

A hot shower was just what she needed, it seemed. The warm water soothed her injuries and refreshed her tired body, so of course she took a very long time in the bathroom. She gauged that she had been in the stall about an hour—her finger tips were wrinkled like prunes when she was finally done. Putting on a purple V-neck t-shirt and some white jeans was normal, but wrapping her yellow scarf around her neck and securing it firmly to stay in place was not. She bandaged her wounded hand awkwardly, given that she was doing it with one hand and her teeth, but after all was said and done she felt much better about everything.

And yet the note, still on her dining room table, stayed like an obnoxious intruder in the back of her mind, reminding her that _nothing_ was normal and that she needed to figure out what she was going to do about the vampire named Mikhail.

It didn’t seem like there was much she could do, but Sophie liked to think she was a strong, independent woman so she would not give up, even in the face of something that felt like it was a lot bigger than her.

Such thoughts didn’t make the situation feel any more manageable though.

In the end, she fell asleep around 6pm and didn’t wake up until just before her shift started the next day.

* * *

Cornerstone was a café not too far from where she lived that served delicious, fantastic food that brought people from all over Canton flocking. It was a very well-to-do establishment and Sophie felt lucky that she worked in such an environment even though she really should have been at school at her age. School was a little too expensive at the moment though, so she was saving up with the help of her often generous tips. Her boss, Mr. Tiller, was a kind, elderly old man who had been an activist back in his day and was now something of a reformed businessman.

Even though the man was a little weird sometimes, spouting things about classical philosophy and going on seemingly-random rants about spiritualism and karma, Sophie thought he was a wonderful person and really looked up to him. She did her best to work hard and give one hundred percent every shift, and it was well-rewarded because Mr. Tiller truly seemed to like her.

Work was just what she needed to take her mind off things and that idea was solidified in the form of her best female friend Ashley Gibson. The redhead was a fellow waitress but also her best friend since middle school. If there was anyone Sophie felt she could tell her secret and have it be safe, it was Ashley. Given that Ashley was an incredible bookworm, Sophie had no doubt that she could help her find out more about her predicament as well as probably locate someone who could help her.

Still, she couldn’t risk her friends’ lives. She had no idea how Mikhail would know if she had told someone about him, but she couldn’t take the chance of him finding out now that she had decided to play it safe when it came to his threats. After thinking about it thoroughly, she still wasn’t sure if she really fathomed him killing her friends over this—at the same time, if he was a vampire and trying to keep his existence a secret, it was definitely a possibility. In the end, it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

It did not stop her from trying to enjoy her shift as much as possible. She had gotten a few odd looks aimed in the direction of her scarf since she was wearing it indoors, but all she could do was shrug it off and make sure the fabric stayed in place tightly. Luckily, the yellow didn’t clash too terribly with her blue waitress uniform or else she wasn’t sure what she would have done. The bandage on her hand was easily attributed to dropping a glass and accidentally cutting herself, so at least that was one less thing she had to worry about.

The lunch rush was over and during the afternoon lull, Sophie and Ashley sat in the break room eating some of the food that had gotten sent back when not done quite to order. Mr. Tiller hated food going to waste so if there was an untouched order, he would give it to his employees for free and without question.

Sophie had claimed the dish with beef stroganoff because it turned out that meat really did make her feel better. She was still a little weak, but keeping to the diet Mikhail had given her was truly speeding up her recovery. It didn’t matter that she hated to listen to any of his commands.

The pair sat at a small table in the break room. Ashley had ordered some strawberry shortcake after finishing the soup that the customer had decided they didn’t want and Sophie was almost halfway done with her stroganoff.

“So,” Sophie said after swallowing a large bite, “How’s the soap opera with Jared?”

Ashley snorted and rolled her eyes. “For once, I’m not going to correct you. It really is a soap opera. For someone who claims not to care about what other people think, he’s having a really hard time explaining to his friends why he’s dating a ‘goody-two-shoes’ like me. It’s beyond ridiculous and I’m starting to rethink the whole thing.” Despite her cynical words, Ashley sounded decidedly half-hearted about the thought of terminating the relationship with her kind-of boyfriend.

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to break up with him?” Ashley and Jared had been attached at the hip for six months so far, and even though Ashley had complained in the past, she had never brought up actually doing anything about the situation.

The auburn-haired girl sighed. “We’re not technically in a relationship right now, I would say, so I’d more call it ‘stop dating him.’ It’s just…things are complicated and I’m not sure about _really_ ending it, but it’s hard when he claims to really care about me and then won’t even touch me when we’re around his friends.”

“That _ass_ ,” Sophie agreed emphatically.

“I don’t really blame him,” Ashley replied solemnly. “I mean, his friends are something of an…interesting bunch. I don’t really fit in with them and it must be awkward for him to have someone like me around. I don’t spit or smoke or drink or…or do any of the things _they_ do. I’m literally the odd one out.”

“It’s his loss,” the blonde argued. “You’re the best thing a guy like him is going to get. If he can’t handle it, then he doesn’t deserve you. And don’t you dare ever change because of a guy, Ashley Gibson, or I swear, I’ll beat him up.”

There was a long pause as the girls regarded each other and then the two burst out laughing. The thought of slim, petite Sophie taking on a big, burly biker with piercings and wild hair like Jared was simply a joke, but nonetheless the visual was pleasing.

“You could suffocate him with your breasts,” Ashley joked, trying not to choke on the portion of shortcake she still had in her mouth.

“Shut up,” Sophie cajoled, waving her uninjured fist in her friend’s face. She couldn’t help that she reddened a little at her friend’s insinuation—they weren’t _that_ big. “I could totally beat the crap out of him!” Even as she said this, she was fighting back giggles.

It felt so nice to be playing around with her friend and acting as though nothing was wrong. This was a conversation similar to the ones she and Ashley would have before the entire disaster concerning a certain vampire had happened. Unfortunately, just remembering her predicament made Sophie sober almost instantly and anxiety began to gnaw at her stomach. The food on her plate suddenly seemed a lot less appetizing.

Ashley noticed the mood swing instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sophie sighed. She contemplated how to phrase her wording so that she wouldn’t give anything about that damned Mikhail but could also get some advice. “I guess I just feel kind of…lost.”

“What do you mean?”

Sophie hesitated before speaking. “Ever feel like everything you knew was a lie? Like things you thought were totally impossible suddenly became possible and you don’t know what to do about it?”

Ashley’s brow furrowed as she contemplated the question, but her eyes fixated on Sophie sharply. “I’m not really sure. I know that I’d never see myself with someone like Jared. I mean, my world completely got flipped upside down with him. Something like that?”

Sophie fought back a sigh of defeat. Of course there was no way Ashley would understand. _No one_ would understand. “Yeah, I guess something like that,” she lied.

Her best friend frowned with concern. “What’s going on, Soph?”

“Nothing, it’s alright. I don’t really want to talk about it,” Sophie said, lying yet again. It was distressing to have to deceive Ashley because she was always usually so honest, but this was not a burden she could share without endangering her or anyone else’s lives.

The rest of the meal went on in silence, but Sophie was unable to eat any more. Anything she put in her mouth tasted like ash.

When Mr. Tiller called out to them that lunch break was over, both girls stood, straightened out their uniforms, and got ready to start working again. Sophie did so without much fervor, no longer feeling lighthearted or merry. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. Luckily, her tips didn’t suffer terribly from her lackluster attitude.

When her shift ended at seven and Sophie walked out of the restaurant, she immediately knew she was being watched; she was just as sure of it as she was sure the sun was setting. Her back stiffened and she froze immediately, eyes darting about to find the source of her fear.

Nothing—or rather, nobody—was there, but she knew that her eyes were lying to her. Someone was definitely there, watching her, and although she didn’t want to think about it, it was pretty easy to guess who that was. As she walked home, the feeling persisted and she knew that yet again, she was being followed. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, the sensation reminding her of the night before.

Mikhail was watching her, stalking her. A discomfited shiver ran down her spine and she pretended not to notice anything, even though her body was trembling with fear. The feeling cemented her decision about how to deal with him; if she was this afraid just knowing he was there, some part of her must have recognized that he was truly dangerous. She now realized what she had felt at the club when she had very first run into him. It had been her survival instincts screaming _‘get away!’_

As soon as she entered her home and the door was shut, the feeling was thankfully gone even though her skin still felt tingly. Sighing, Sophie leaned against her closed door and took a deep breath. At least for now she was alone.

A glance at her phone told her that it was almost eight—her walk home had taken much longer than usual, probably because she’d been walking so stiffly and warily. It didn’t matter; she didn’t feel those eyes on her anymore. The sun was completely gone now, as winter was steadily approaching even though it was only September.

Once her nerves had finally uncoiled, Sophie went about making dinner—salad with some chopped chicken and her favorite dressing. She ate slowly and haltingly, not feeling hungry but knowing that she needed to keep up her strength.

By the time she went to bed, exhausted, at around ten that night, Sophie was all too aware of the fact that she had less than twenty-four hours before she would have to see her stalker again. Despite mulling over the subject constantly since she had gotten home, she still hadn’t come up with a solution. Part of her continued to fervently hope that she would find a way to disprove everything she had been confronted with in the past forty-eight hours, but she was starting to feel less and less like that was going to happen. This was real. As a result, she felt a paralyzing fear start creeping into her heart. She was hard pressed to get any rest at all that night.

* * *

Mikhail hadn’t been able to resist seeking out his prey that night. He had risked the sunlight to see her head home, even though it was reckless behavior. He’d never felt so drawn to anybody before, especially not a human, and yet he couldn’t deny that he felt an inexplicable pull toward this young woman.

He followed her all the way home, careful to stay in the shadows to prevent any burns from the setting sun, but he was lucky in that clouds were steadily creeping over the horizon. They were by no means a foolproof way to avoid the sun, but with heavy clothing covering his body and the cover of the lengthening shadows for additional protection, he felt safe enough to risk going out.

He couldn’t help watching her hungrily as she walked, even though her movements were stiff. It was clear that she could feel him watching her, just like before, and he appreciated that she was so alert. Besides, her slow pace made it easy to study her.

The scent of her blood called out to him just as it had the night before, just as intoxicating as heroin was to its user. The only way he was able to hold himself back was by reminding himself that now, more than ever, he did not want to kill her. It would bring up too many questions if she wound up in the hospital due to him being overeager, and although his existence would likely remain hidden, it would make it much harder to meet his needs. Not to mention that he didn’t have time for her to be cooped up in a hospital, out of his reach and likely under the protection of the police. Even if they couldn’t actually stop him, it was part of his job to not put his kind under public scrutiny.

Following her also had the added benefit of allowing him to scope out the area in which she lived. Her townhome was part of a gated complex with tall, shady trees and plenty of places to avoid being seen. It was also nice that there weren’t any security guards, proving that because it was a rather nice neighborhood, most didn’t consider the place a security risk. It was all the better for him—if the humans weren’t expecting a dangerous intruder, it would be easier to fool them.

Sophie entered her home then, her footsteps quickening as she saw a destination that she foolishly considered ‘safe.’ He was no longer able continue to watch her, although technically, it wasn’t impossible. However, he was hungry now for her blood, and since he couldn’t have any of hers, he would have to settle for some other human.

The fact that the human he ended up feeding on that night looked suspiciously similar to Sophie went unnoticed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter; read at own discretion

He came early Tuesday night, his anticipation running too high to wait until exactly nine o’clock. The scent of his prey’s blood was irresistible and he craved it with every bone in his body, even though he had fed just the night before. His fangs ached at the mere thought of her and his claws threatened to lengthen with the thrill of the hunt; he had been unable to stay away for long Monday evening, and he had ended coming back to her apartment after feeding.

He steadfastly ignored the way he seemed to gravitate towards her. It was not a line of thought he was willing to examine too closely.

Their Tuesday night rendezvous couldn’t have come soon enough in his opinion. He was outside her house at eight, watching her silently from an inconspicuous perch on the tree ten or so feet away from her bedroom window. His keen vision ensured he didn’t miss a single thing.

For once, she didn’t notice that he was there and it was fascinating to watch her act normally. Then again, perhaps not normally, he thought with an amused smirk. She was fretting, pacing back and forth in her room and gnawing on her plump bottom lip. It wasn’t hard to guess that her anxiety was connected to his upcoming visit. Her blood, sweetened with fear, was calling to him, tempting him with every passing moment. It grew harder and harder to resist showing up early.

Then, fifteen minutes before he was to reveal himself, she suddenly stopped pacing and her face lit up as though struck with an ingenious idea and the fear in her blood dissipated, much to his disappointment and also intrigue. He raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering what exactly she had come up with that made her think she could possibly escape him.

It became clear when she gathered her new phone, wallet, and purse, tightened the scarf she had intelligently wrapped around her neck, slipped on her shoes, and left the house, locking it soundly behind her.

She thought that by not being present when he told her to be there would get save her? That was foolish and so very, very naïve. She was _his_ now; he had decided to keep her alive, something that he’d never done before. Did she really think that such a simple tactic would change his mind?

He almost laughed aloud at how ridiculous the notion was as he leapt down from his perch on the tree. She was interesting, he had to admit, despite her stupidity.

She was walking swiftly, too preoccupied with getting away to notice him heading her way. Once she had gotten off the sidewalk and was reaching the gate, he sped up and stopped directly in front of her, unable to stop his smirk when she shrieked in fear at his sudden appearance.

“Going somewhere?” he asked smugly. Her breath caught in her throat and she simply stared at him in pure, unadulterated horror. Her fear spiked deliciously.

When she said nothing, he took a step forward, which she quickly responded to by taking several steps backwards. “I’ll scream,” she whispered with feigned courage. “They’ll see you and they’ll lock you up. Leave me alone.” Her voice was pleading with him, even though she probably didn’t mean for it to be.

“Good luck with that,” he replied nonchalantly. “Even if they could catch me, I’ll make sure you’re suitably repaid for disobeying me…” He trailed off meaningfully, a smirk playing at his lips.

She paled visibly, all the blood draining from her face. Without thinking, she took another step backwards.

Satisfied, he walked past her in the direction of her townhome, deftly grabbing her wrist as he passed her with the intent of dragging her back. Sophie let out a stifled whimper but made no more efforts to scream, although he had to yank her along at times when she tried to slow the pace.

“Please,” she said softly, “Please leave me alone.” Her voice was so quiet that if it hadn’t been for his keen hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her.

“I’ve gone to too much trouble for you,” he replied tonelessly, and it was the only answer he was going to give. She whimpered at the response and he could smell the salt of her tears marring the sweet scent of her blood. He almost wanted to tell her to stop crying, but he knew it was a futile command.

They reached her home quickly enough and he released her, motioning to the door and implying for her to unlock it. With trembling hands, she did so and he could tell that she was tempted to shut it in his face before he entered. He corrected this unwise attempt by slamming his palm against the wooden panel as it swiftly began to close and shooting her a threatening glare, at which she blanched and hastily hurried all the way inside. He followed her, making sure to lock the door behind him. If she tried something so daring as to run, locking the door would only serve to be one more thing to slow her down. From her wary glance at the door when the lock clicked into place, he knew she understood the reasoning behind his actions.

She didn’t have a chance at outrunning him anyways, but part of the hunt was the mind games and they were his favorite.

“Did you really think that running would serve any purpose?” he asked with mild interest as he made his way into her living room and took a seat upon her navy blue couch, easily making himself at home.

She stood stiffly by the kitchen a good few yards away from him, watching him with guarded, fearful eyes. “I had to try,” she responded at length, and her words held a good deal of conviction.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled scathingly. “I suppose you did, didn’t you?” he replied in a tone that required no response. She said nothing for a long time, but when she spoke, her next words genuinely surprised him.

“If you’re really a vampire,” she started uncertainly, “then all I can think of is that you’re here for my blood.” She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing with more strength in her tone. “So why don’t you get it over with?”

He was shocked into scorning laughter, the audacity of her attitude pleasing him in a way it normally didn’t. She looked disconcerted at his response, which slowly bled into fear when his laughter died down and he narrowed his eyes at her contemplatively.

“Unfortunately for you, vampires can have interests other than food,” he replied, innuendo clear in his tone as he eyed her pleasing body. She wasn’t wearing her blue waitress uniform, having changed into a conservative red top and form-fitting gray sweatpants.

It took a few moments for the implication to truly sink in. “No,” she spat angrily. “No! I won’t be some-some kind of toy for you!”

He sneered viciously. “At what point did I give you the idea that you had a choice?”

Sophie took a large step away from him when he stood. “No! I refuse! Get out of my house or I’ll scream, you bastard!”

Blatantly ignoring her insult, he felt the niggling of an unfamiliar feeling of lust as he took notice of her heaving chest, but he said nothing in response. He stood and began to advance on her. Immediately, she was dashing for the door, lips parted to release a scream.

It only took a mere second before he was pressing her up against the wall, her back to his chest. She managed to let out a brief cry for help but he quickly wrapped a clawed hand around her mouth, muffling her desperate words.

She fit so _perfectly_ against him, her rear pressing teasingly into his groin and her generous breasts forcing her back to arch against his chest. Mikhail couldn’t resist burying his nose into her hair, inhaling her delicious, intoxicating scent. It was as though something had possessed him; he’d never had such a strong response to any woman before. She hadn’t stopped her muffled screaming, and her thrashing was incessant, but he ignored these factors in favor of gently grasping her throat, stroking the soft skin with his claws.

She stilled at the touch of his hand, soft puffs of air from her nose tickling his knuckles. She was trying not to hyperventilate, he realized.

“Delicious,” he murmured into her ear, nipping the lobe with a single fang and drawing the slightest amount of blood. Lapping up the little droplet, he felt a sudden surge of bloodlust—it proved harder to contain that he would have liked, but in the end he was able to force it down in favor of relishing the moment.

He yanked her away from the wall and she immediately started thrashing again, kicking and screaming and pulling at his hand to stop it from containing her cries. He heedlessly dragged her further into the house.

Despite her resistance, he was easily able to maneuver her in such a way that she was led to the couch. He forced her down to lie down, following quickly.

“Get off me!” she hissed, shoving at his chest, but there were tears in her eyes even as she tried to push him away. “ _Get off of me!_ ” she demanded with all the indignant fury she could muster.

Ignoring her commands, he covered her mouth again and used his body weight to force her to stay still, pinning her wrists together with his other hand and pulling them above her head. While she was not particularly weak for a female human, her struggles were futile against his species-augmented strength. “This doesn’t have to be difficult,” her murmured once she had finally been strong-armed into submission. “It could actually turn out to be…quite enjoyable for the both of us.” His eyes glinted hungrily.

Sophie only glared at him furiously, making a pointless effort to knee him in the groin. Effortlessly, he spread her thighs at their junction with his knees, effectively disarming her, and ground his hips against hers; at the display of his arousal, all at once the façade of anger turned into true fear and tears were spilling from her eyes. He himself felt a shiver of pleasure in a certain part of his anatomy.

Suddenly fascinated by the wet trails streaming down her cheeks, he leaned down and licked the length of one of the tracks of her tears. He found the salty taste not to his liking.

Despite this, he suddenly found he wanted to touch her, explore her body, but with both hands occupied, it seemed it would be a difficult endeavor. Mikhail was aware that should she scream loud enough and for a long enough period of time, she might actually be able to attract unwanted attention. Allowing her to make noise wasn’t ideal for his intentions.

The solution to his problem came easily enough. Glad that for once he had worn a belt, he momentarily uncovered her mouth and removed the leather garment. She screamed loudly, her panic giving her new, almost unbearable volume, and he hastily the cinched the belt tight around her wrists, forcing her arms behind her head in such an angle that it would be difficult to use them.

“Get off of me! Get off of me! Let me go, you perverted freak!” she yelled heatedly, desperately. He ignored her, gladly covering her mouth once again and quickly moving on to more important activities.

Savoring the moment, he fondled her full breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt. Her breasts were supple and perky, and he found that he rather liked the feel of them. Craving to see more of her lush form, he shredded through her top easily until the front was ripped thoroughly and her breasts, barely contained by the skimpy lace bra she wore, were displayed for his perusal.

His groin tightened uncomfortably at the sight of her heaving chest combined with the intoxicating scent of her fear filling the air. Pulling the bra aside, he ignored the way her breath hitched in terror and latched onto a pert bud, rolling his tongue over the peak until her nipple stiffened. There was an interesting flavor to her skin; it was much like the taste of her blood, but with a floral aftertaste. Interest growing, he nipped at her bared flesh with a fang, drawing blood. She let out a panicked cry of pain as he pulled the droplets of crimson liquid from the small puncture wound thirstily, bruising her skin darkly. It was becoming harder to deny himself her honeyed blood.

At length he pulled away from her, making quick work of the bra by snapping it down the middle just because it made the scent of her fear triple in intensity. He was fully ready to taste her blood again—the little bit he’d had removed all thoughts of physical lust from his mind—when a memory, unbidden, came to his mind.

_‘Nothing tastes better than blood after an orgasm,’_ his comrade, a vampire named Raphael, had once told him. Mikhail had never considered going to such effort to for the sake of food, but with this half-naked young woman he’d claimed as his own lying beneath him, he wondered if it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to find out.

In a moment of impulsivity, he grasped the waistband of her sweatpants and pulled them down to her knees. Her screams somehow became louder despite his hand and she renewed her efforts to fight back. It was growing tiresome, this struggling, and he finally had had enough.

“Keep fighting and I’ll happily mangle that pretty friend of yours,” he hissed, irritated by her fighting. When Sophie refused to listen and continued screaming, he elaborated. “I’m sure you know the one. Short little redhead who works with you? She looks like she’d make a nice _treat._ ”

His prey’s eyes widened almost comically at the threat. When her struggles ceased and helpless tears flowed as a sign of her surrender, Mikhail ripped through her panties, baring nearly her entire body for him to see.

“I trust you’ll have the intelligence to stay quiet,” he said, the threat thinly veiled. She only closed her eyes, but when he removed his hand her lips stayed pursed together tightly even though she couldn’t stop the low whines of withheld terror coming from the back of her throat. He decided that was as good as it was going to get.

Mikhail spread her lower lips and rubbed her hot core slowly, gently. She stiffened beneath him, her body trembling from the weight of her fear and disgust. He could smell it on her; she was repulsed by his actions. It didn’t matter though—he knew enough about human biology that her body’s reactions would not always reflect her thoughts on his actions.

At random intervals, he used his claw the tickle her sensitive nub. The first time, she couldn’t help but jerk at the touch, but soon after she found the willpower to control her reactions. She was breathing more heavily, and despite her unwillingness, he could smell a trace of arousal in her scent.

It didn’t matter that she was resistant. He had all the time in the world. Only a short time had passed since their return to her home, and he all night to get the reaction he wanted out of her.

Then, suddenly, her hips jerked in response to his hand. He couldn’t help the wide smirk on his face; he smelled her arousal clearly now. The sweet scent had his groin pulsing with need.

He sped up the motions, paying special attention to her most responsive areas. The scent strengthened and he relished it, her arousal almost as sweet and tempting as her blood. He could feel slickness growing from her core and once he deemed her wet enough, he slipped a single clawed finger inside of her.

She whined and he knew it was one of pain. She was _tight_ , so _tight_ —but she was also slick and pliant, her heat warming his cool fingers almost instantly. With a few quick movements he found the bundle of nerves that would be her undoing and soon she was panting despite herself.

Watching her breathe haltingly and feeling her small, involuntary jerks against his hand, Mikhail couldn’t help but feel that he’d made a very good choice by choosing this woman as his.


	6. Chapter 6

This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

He was touching her where she’d never been touched before, where she _shouldn’t_ be touched by him. Her breasts still prickled in revulsion from where he’d run his hands over them, even though her nipples were stiff from his attention to them.

And oh, god, he was _inside_ her.

But despite her disgust towards him, despite that he was sick, blood-drinking freak of nature, she was aroused. Pleasure sparkled through her abdomen as he tapped her bundle of nerves with his finger and rubbed her clit roughly with his thumb, his black claw occasionally sending an unwelcome jolt when it touched her just right. She made sure to keep her eyes closed, desperate not to be a witness to any of this even though she was a participant.

The pleasure was building, heading exponentially towards a crescendo that she had no power over. It deeply infuriated her. How dare he violate her like this? And yet for all her disgust for him and her situation, the unwanted arousal kept rising and rising and soon she knew that at any moment, she was going to burst.

Instead, she couldn’t stop herself from screaming when he forced a second finger inside her.

His claw had cut her slightly when he added the second digit, and it _hurt,_ but then he resumed his pace. She tried to ignore his light panting above her just as she tried to ignore the sensations building within her. It was proving impossible to fight, however, because even though she was being stretched uncomfortably and even though he had nicked her with his claw, she felt the pressure building, and then-

Sophie couldn’t stop the strangled moan that passed her lips just as much as she couldn’t stop her hips from bucking as she came, _hard_ , onto his fingers. The resulting chuckle was pleased and smug and she couldn’t stop the angry tears that leaked from her eyes even as she rode out wave after wave of intense pleasure, sucking in labored breaths as she orgasmed.

He removed his fingers from her dripping core and there was a pause. Morbidly curious, she peeked at him through shuttered eyelashes, but upon seeing Mikhail licking his fingers clean with a contemplative look on his face, she clenched her eyes shut once more.

And then came exactly what she’d known was coming the whole time; he leaned down, turned her neck to the side, and bit harshly into her jugular.

The pain was just as bad as the first time he had assaulted her, but since she wasn’t entirely shocked by the turn of events, she was able to let out a loud shriek at the sudden pain. He’d reopened the two bite marks where he’d first drank from her and Sophie could only think that the bruise would be even worse now.

Mikhail drank almost sluggishly compared to last time, appearing to savor her blood rather than just greedily pull mouthful after mouthful. In fact, he was barely sucking at all—he just let her traitorous heart pump the blood into his mouth naturally.

It didn’t take long to become lightheaded and soon she was dizzy. Still, before she could fall unconscious, he pulled away, lapping at the two bite marks. She felt him brush the hair away from her face but kept her eyes closed, not sure that she could face him after the shameful, unwanted pleasure he’d forced from her body.

“He was right,” she heard him murmur thoughtfully, but since she had no idea what he was talking about, she ignored it in favor of pretending to be unconscious.

After a while he got off her and unbound his belt from around her wrists. The angle they had been in would undoubtedly make her shoulders sore later, but she didn’t dare move until he was gone. If she was still conscious, there was always the chance that he would want _more_.

She heard footsteps going away from the couch and in the direction of her front door. Then, his next words came and she knew that he hadn’t believed her act of being unconscious.

“Thursday, same time. Be here…and don’t try anything stupid. I won’t be so merciful if you do something foolish again.” Then the door opened and shut decisively.

He was gone.

Still, Sophie didn’t move for quite a while. She had to be absolutely certain he was gone before she did anything else.

At long last, assured that Mikhail wouldn’t be returning, Sophie opened her eyes. Upon seeing her naked form and ripped clothing, she let out a horrified sob and began to cry wretchedly.

He had violated her! He wasn’t just after her blood—he was going to make her a sex slave! Disgusted and repulsed by him, the situation, and most of all herself for her body’s reaction, Sophie was immediately on her feet, intending to make it to the shower and wash every last trace of him off her.

Unfortunately, he had drained a good deal of blood, although not as much as last time, so she was forced to wait and steady herself on the back of the couch before proceeding upstairs.

Once safely under the hot water, it was all she could do to not scrub her skin until it bled. By the time she was done it was still raw and bright red, almost painful to the touch, but at least she felt remotely clean.

And yet she still felt as though a coat of grime was on her body.

Her phone was ringing, she noticed vaguely, still in something of a daze after the most humiliating episode in her life. Picking it up, she saw that it was Ashley calling. Sophie had no idea what her friend wanted, but she did know that she had nothing to give at the moment. Setting her phone down after rejecting the call and putting it on silent, she stumbled into a pair of pajamas and collapsed onto her bed.

She knew, on some level, that she needed to eat to start replenishing her blood. Glancing at the clock and noticing the late hour, Sophie felt that Thursday wasn’t really all that far away. Of course, knowing that she would see Mikhail again wasn’t helping matters at all—in fact, it only made the span of time seem so much shorter.

This had proved it. He really was a vampire; she had felt the sharpness of his fangs as he pierced her jugular and she had heard his light swallows as he drank her blood. There hadn’t been the slightest stain on her couch and he had drunk every last drop of blood. On top of that, if it wasn’t proof enough, even though his incredible strength could be attributed to a rigorous work-out regime, the way he moved so fast he disappeared for a moment couldn’t be.

Sophie closed her eyes wearily. Her body felt dirty and her heart was heavy while her stomach churned every time she thought about what had just happened. It was all a dream as far as she was concerned. If she let this haunt her, bring her down, she would surely go insane. She just had to ignore her body’s sensations for now.

Somehow convincing herself, however weakly, that this evening had been nothing but her imagination, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Unfortunately, when Sophie woke up the next morning, the first thing that assaulted her was the soreness of her shoulders, and with that came the recollection of what had happened the night previous. It seemed the incident with Mikhail wouldn’t allow itself to be brushed off as a dream or a figment of her imagination.

She staggered out of bed and knew that the weakness of her body—something that she was swiftly beginning to associate with having her blood fed on—would be problematic, given that she had work in barely thirty minutes. Yes, she’d overslept, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. After something so horrible happening to her, Sophie felt she deserved to be cut a little slack.

Despite the achiness of her body and its calling for her to eat something, Sophie could not summon an actual appetite. Even less so could she summon the will to eat the foods Mikhail had instructed her to; it was only serving his purposes all the more. She knew that it was unwise to go against him in such a way and that it would be better to keep up her strength, yet it was impossible to look at food and still actually come to terms with eating it. In a combination of angst, obstinacy, and despair, Sophie decided against eating and simply headed off to work after showering yet again and changing into her uniform.

She noted with some detached form of interest that the bruise had not returned to a bright purple-and-blue like it had been the first time she had been bitten. Eventually logic led her to the realization that because he had not sucked the blood from her body as hard as before, there hadn’t been consequent bruising and so the current mark was still healing unhindered. However, with the fading of the vibrant discoloration came the problem of the actual bite marks becoming more prominent—an issue that was even worse than the bruise should its true cause come to light. Of course, two little punctures holes were easier to miss, but at the same time they were infinitely more difficult to explain. A bruise could be from a fall, an accident, anything—there were many more believable ways to make up a story for that. Hell, she could even add some truth to her lies and say that she’d been mugged and nearly strangled, which would easily provide a cover story for her new phone. The bite marks, which despite their size told a completely different and more complicated story, would take much a more creative and implausible explanation.

Bruise or no, it seemed she would be wearing a scarf indefinitely until she found a way to get rid of her vampiric stalker. And yet with how tired and weary she felt after the past few tumultuous days, Sophie found that she had no energy to pursue a solution to her situation currently. It would present itself soon enough, she told herself. This couldn’t go on forever.

She refused to think about the future—no good thoughts could come from it and she had no energy to spare worrying.

To all who passed her on her way to work, she was sure she looked like she was going for ‘Best Zombie Imitation of the Year.’ Her face was slack and expressionless and from the worried look Ashley shot her when she clocked in for her shift, Sophie knew an interrogation would be coming at their lunch break. Pushing the distressing thought away, she went about her doing job to the best of her ability.

The regulars of Cornerstone who knew her and were familiar with her usually cheerful, vibrant personality expressed concern over her appearance, but Sophie waved them away with a weak smile and a lame excuse. Surprisingly, they tipped even more generously, clearly out of pity for whatever situation was getting her down. Conversely, newer customers tipped less because of her seemingly bad attitude. It was a small comfort that by lunch break she hadn’t come out with any less than usual.

In her books, that was a good thing. She wouldn’t have been surprised if her pay suffered because of her poor appearance and unenthusiastic interactions.

And just as she had predicted, Ashley assailed her immediately behind closed doors.

“Soph, what’s wrong?” she demanded, her big brown eyes shining with worry, and it was all Sophie could do to not start spilling her outrageous secret and cry her heart out onto her best friend’s comforting shoulder.

Even if Ashley would believe her—and with the evidence of the bite marks and the fact that Sophie was not one to make up such a ridiculous story it might be possible—she would gain nothing from it other than temporary comfort, which would of course be marred by the fact that her friend’s life was then in danger. There was nothing to be done.

Sophie forced a smile onto her face. “Nothing, really.”

The expression on her friend’s face told her she didn’t believe that for a second. “Bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.”

It was something of a shock and perhaps a true sign of how terrible she looked that her bookish, gentle, usually demure friend had sworn so vehemently. All Sophie could do was chuckle half-heartedly and try to evade her orders. “Wow, you’ve been hanging out with Jared too much, Ash. I’ve never heard you cuss before.”

“Cut it out,” Ashley hissed, her anger fueled by concern. At Sophie’s unyielding expression, her eyes softened and she tried a different approach. “I’m worried about you. You were acting so…off yesterday afternoon, and now you look like you’ve been through a disaster.”

Sophie wanted to reply, _‘I have,’_ but smartly bit her tongue and just shook her head, making her way to the table and taking a seat. Ashley promptly followed and sat down next to her, unwilling to let the subject drop.

They were silent for a while as Ashley tried to find a way to broach the topic that would get her friend to talk about what was bothering her. Finally, Ashley said, “Do you want me to get you something to eat? It’s on me.”

The blonde shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

There was a long pause. “Sophie, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. Please, trust me. You know you can tell me anything,” her friend tried to reassure her.

At last, Sophie relented as much as she could while keeping Ashley safe. “I know, but it’s not about trusting you. If there was anyone who I could tell my situation to, it would be you. But I literally can’t…it’ll put you in danger.”

Ashley’s chocolate eyes were wide as she processed her best friend’s words. “Danger…?” she whispered, fear tinging her voice.

“That’s all I can say. I’m trying to figure out how to fix everything, but I really, truly, have to do it on my own,” Sophie responded regretfully.

“Sophie…” Ashley’s gaze fell to the scarf, pieces of information clicking together in her mind almost audibly as the wheels turned. “Is somebody hurting you?” Her words were dangerously soft, showing the pure outrage that would come if Sophie confirmed her suspicion.

“Ashley, I can’t-”

With a speed that momentarily seemed to rival Mikhail’s, Ashley yanked the scarf away from Sophie’s neck. It had loosened over the course of the morning and with the surprising amount of strength used, it came off easily. Ashley stared at the mottled bruise with abject horror, her jaw dropping as she inhaled sharply through her nose. “Who did this to you?” Ashley’s voice was flat and terrifyingly emotionless—the words didn’t even sound like a question.

Terror flooded Sophie’s system and she made a grab for the scarf, but Ashley’s quick hands pulled the fabric out of her reach.

“Sophie,” Ashley said, tone threatening.

Tears, borne of desperation and fear, filled Sophie’s eyes. “I can’t tell you!” she said, begging her friend to understand. She stood, leaning over the shorter, seated auburn-haired woman in a futile attempt to regain her scarf. “He’ll kill you!”

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself from saying them. She froze as she realized how much she’d given away and Ashley was equally stunned by the fervor and desperation in her friend’s voice. The room fell into a tense silence.

“Ladies!” called an elderly male voice and suddenly, Mr. Tiller had pushed open the door and was strolling inside. Taking advantage of the interruption, Sophie grabbed her scarf from Ashley’s suddenly loose fingers and quickly returned it to her neck, cinching it snugly.

Noticing the coil of tension in the room, Mr. Tiller frowned as he hobbled over. “Everything alright here?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes!” both girls replied at the same time, their voices too high-pitched to make the lie believable.

“Well, I thought I heard some raised voices, so I just wanted to make sure things were okay,” the older man said uncertainly. However, despite everyone in the room knowing that nothing was remotely alright, he went on wisely, “But it seems everything’s fine. Callie’s working the front and Margaret picked up an extra shift, so your break can be a little longer if you want.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said, while Ashley only nodded mutely. Thankfully, Mr. Tiller had lived his fair share of years and knew when to stay uninvolved; Sophie could only thank the heavens that she wouldn’t have to lie to yet another person, because clearly she was going to have to do some fast thinking with Ashley.

The door closed and Sophie took a seat resignedly. Ashley wasted no time. “Tell me everything,” Ashley said sternly once they were assuredly alone. Sophie opened her mouth, feeling that she’d come up with a decent lie, when her friend continued, “And _don’t_ lie. Sophie Hart, you are a terrible liar and I’ll know if you’re making something up.” Then, placing her hands on Sophie’s shoulders and looking her directly in the eyes, she said softly but with great conviction, “I don’t care if my life is in danger. It scares me, but clearly _your_ life is in danger, too. I said I wanted to help and I mean it; you can’t go through something like this alone. _Trust me_.”

Sophie felt the last of her walls breaking down at her friend’s firm assurance. Everything Ashley had said was true—she really was a horrible liar, and she couldn’t go through this alone even if she wanted to—and at this point, there wasn’t really the option of backtracking. Trembling with fear and disgust at her weakness, Sophie began to tell her story—omitting the part where Mikhail had sexually assaulted her. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to admit it out loud.

“…so I don’t know his reasons or understand why he’s doing any of these things,” she said finally. “Everything’s like a fog. He’s pulling the strings and I’m the puppet! He’s threatened to kill Kenneth and Dean if I tell anyone— _and_ he’ll kill the person I tell. That means that he might go after you and I can’t lose you, Ash. I didn’t want to tell you and I wish I could erase all of this from your mind. If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself!”

Ashley sat silently for a long time and Sophie wondered if her friend thought she’d gone off her rocker. At length, the shorter young woman pointed at her scarf. “Can I look at it more closely?”

Sophie acquiesced, thinking that Ashley needed more concrete proof to back up the outrageous story. After she’d pulled away the scarf, her friend leaned in and inspected the bruise and bite marks more carefully. With a sigh, she pulled away, and then said something that Sophie would never have predicted might come out of her friend’s mouth.

“I thought Jared might be able to do something, but they’re too big. This vampire’s way older than him; he’d be killed instantly.”

Sophie gaped. “Wait…you _know?_ And what do you mean, too big?”

Ashley exhaled slowly, looking at Sophie almost bashfully. “Jared told me he was a vampire once things started…uh, looking serious. It’s the main reason I don’t fit in with his friends, actually, and one of the reasons I’m hesitant to stop seeing him; I don’t want him to think that I’m going to say anything and get the wrong idea. Vampires are dangerous in general, but the secret of their existence is something they’d definitely kill over.” She paused for a moment, then continued. “The size of a vampire’s fangs—when feeding—can sometimes give you an idea of how old they are, and by extension how powerful they are. Typically, the older the vampire, the stronger they are. There are some cases where that rule is broken and a vampire becomes more powerful than their age would normally allow, but apparently it’s pretty rare. Jared isn’t even one hundred yet and judging by the size of his marks, I’d say Mikhail is way older.”

Sophie’s heart stopped in her chest. ‘ _Way older?’_ What did that mean? How powerful would that make him? A shiver of fear shot down her spine.

“However,” Ashley continued, noticing her friend’s terrified face, “I can ask Jared, but he’s never said anything about telepathic powers. Some can do a little mind control through glamours—a spell of sorts—yes, but nothing about direct mind-reading. So unless I do something to warrant his attention, there’s no real way that I know of that he could find out that I know anything.”

Too afraid to hope, Sophie stammered out, “B-but couldn’t he use one of these…glamours to make you tell him if you know, if he suspected something maybe?”

Ashley smirked knowingly and Sophie’s heart leaped hopefully. Unbuttoning the top of her uniform, she motioned to a thin necklace that had a small, diamond-shaped jade pendant. “It’s a charm that wards off that kind of control,” she explained. Seeing the doubt in Sophie’s eyes, she went on. “It’s made of sterling silver, which burns vampires if they touch it, so it’s very difficult for them to take it off—and, conveniently, there’s a bit of magic in it warms up when a glamour is being used, so I can just fake my way through whatever they try to use one.” She looked at it fondly. “Jared got it for me as a birthday present. Most vampires like to think no one else knows about them, so they usually don’t suspect things like this.”

“I need one,” Sophie said breathlessly.

“Not yet,” Ashley said, shaking her head slowly. “If you suddenly start wearing one, he’ll definitely know you told someone. You can’t find information like this on the internet.” Smirking wryly, she added, “I’ve already tried. Trust me, I had to do some research of my own after finding out about all this.”

Overloaded with the information and sudden turn of events, Sophie exhaled loudly and slumped in her seat. “What else can you tell me that I should know?”

Ashley had a thoughtful look on her face for a long moment before speaking again. “Well, I’m not sure, but I think this…thing with Mikhail is temporary.” When Sophie’s features lit up, Ashley smiled sadly. “I can’t say for sure, but I know from experience that vampires usually don’t spend time with us humans other than for the purpose of feeding. The fact that Jared doesn’t want me solely as a walking, talking blood bag is one of the reason we have so many problems. That kind of inter-species love is highly disapproved of by many, especially older, more conservative vampires. Given how old Mikhail probably is, I doubt he’s very progressive in that line of thinking. If a vampire wants to be with a human, usually they’ll just turn them. Immortality and all.”

Sophie nodded. It wasn’t a surefire hope, but it was something to latch onto—until an even more terrifying thought came to mind. “Then…when he’s done, he’ll kill me, right?”

“No!” Ashley said, fervently and loudly. At Sophie’s wince, she said more quietly although with no less conviction, “I’m _not_ going to let him kill you. We’ll find a way out of this. Together.”

Smiling genuinely at her best friend, Sophie clasped her hands over Ashley’s. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Oh my god, _thank you!”_

And then she was sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks, and Ashley was holding her and rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ashley cooed. Even if it felt like _nothing_ was okay, Sophie found it within herself to believe her words for just a little bit.

But that little bit was enough to give her hope for the future.

Sophie had started to calm down when Ashley glanced at the clock. “Hey,” she said gently, “Do you want me to ask Mr. Tiller to send you home early?”

“No,” Sophie replied after a slight moment of hesitation. “No, just in case he’s watching, I can’t give off any signs that something might have changed. He seems to…like to watch me.” She hadn’t forgotten the creepy feeling of his eyes following her Monday evening.

Ashley nodded seriously. “Alright. Well, then we’d better get back out there. Callie’s going to come in and start biting our heads off if we leave her out there alone with Margaret any longer.”

Sophie couldn’t help but laugh weakly. Callie Corradier was a beautiful older woman but someone who had a very strict and severe attitude; it was a generally bad idea to piss her off. Conversely, Margaret was a ditzy, somewhat air-headed individual with more bosom than brain and tended to annoy Callie when they worked simultaneously.

Ashley headed out to clock back in while Sophie took a moment to dry her eyes and clean up a little. It was no wonder Ashley had been so concerned; she looked terrible. The bags under her eyes were decidedly pronounced, she looked pale, and her hands were trembling slightly, probably because of the less-than-usual amount of blood in her body. Vaguely, she knew that she should eat, but even after all the relief of knowing she wasn’t alone she still couldn’t rummage up an appetite.

However, she was much cheerier for the rest of the afternoon and that resulted in better tips and a better day altogether. With a slight spring in her step, Sophie went to clock out. Passing Ashley on her way to the cash register, her friend quietly told her to meet her in the break room before leaving. It sounded urgent and now worried, Sophie quickly wrote in the current time and then headed to the back to wait.

Five minutes later, Ashley came through the door. Walking over to her friend, she leaned in and began to speak softly, clearly conscientious of the possibility of being overheard. Sophie was willing to bet that more and more of their conversations were going to be carried on in hushed whispers from that day forward.

“I was thinking about everything and in order to move forward in getting him out of your life, you’re going to have to go out of your comfort zone,” Ashley said, her words weighted with apprehension. Sophie nodded, nervously gesturing for her friend to continue. “You need to get to know him.”

As much as it made sense, the mere thought of _getting to know her attacker_ was horrific.

Ashley saw her petrified look and shook her head, as though disagreeing with Sophie’s fear. “I know it’s going to be hard, but we need more information to work with. It’ll be slow going because if you look too interested too fast he’ll know something is going on. Try getting him to open up. It’ll be hard and scary, but we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Swallowing with some difficulty, Sophie said, “Go on. What do I need to ask him?”

“His exact age would be helpful, and any clues you can get to find out just how powerful he is without directly asking him. You have to be careful, _really_ careful, because if he catches on that you’re up to something I have no doubt that he’ll…do something drastic.” What she really meant was that he’d kill her. “Find out why he chose you and if he does things like this often. That will give us a better of understanding of what he’s using you for and how important you are in the grand scheme of things. As much as it kills me to put it this way, we need to find out valuable you are to him. It’s a double-edged sword; the less valuable, then your life is in much more danger. The more valuable, the likelier that he’ll need to be eliminated completely if you want to ever get away from him.”

“I don’t mind getting rid of him no matter how valuable I am to him,” Sophie couldn’t help but interject vehemently. The thought of killing someone frightened her and the thought of going head-to-head with Mikhail was certainly suicide, and yet she didn’t find herself objecting to the idea of killing him even then.

“I know,” Ashley replied understandingly. “Just…find out how old he is, what he wants from you, _why_ he wants you, and more than anything, listen closely to everything he says. Something that might seem completely useless could turn out to be crucial information.”

“He, uh, doesn’t talk much anyway…” Sophie felt chills run down her spine at the thought of his smooth, baritone voice. When he did choose to speak, it usually made her shiver in fear.

“You need to change that.”

Sophie glanced at her friend, about to object, when Ashley cut her off.

“You really have to. The more he talks, the more information you’ll get. You have to be completely inconspicuous about it and _don’t_ give him the impression that you’re really listening or that you care, but he could slip something really important that would make it easier to get rid of him.”

The way Ashley looked at her made Sophie realize just how dire this was to her survival, no matter how much she didn’t want to do it. The saying ‘ _know thy enemy’_ held a meaning now for her that she’d never fully grasped before and with a resolute nod, she agreed to do as Ashley told her. She would have to draw on all the inner strength she could muster to overcome her reservations because this was literally life or death.

“Good,” Ashley said, much louder and brightly. It was a clear attempt to cover for their long, hushed discussion. “Well, you’d better go home, and Callie’s going to shit kittens if I’m in here any longer.”

Sophie burst out in surprised laughter at Ashley’s crude words and then gave her friend a long, heartfelt hug despite the fact that her grip was weak before leaving the break room and then pushing out the front doors of Cornerstone.

She was surprised when she felt her stalker’s eyes following her as she walked home. It was five in the evening, a little earlier than she usually got off, and even though it was very cloudy out, surely he couldn’t be out in the sun regardless of the time of day? Suddenly more afraid than she had been before, Sophie quickened her steps this time instead of moving stiffly like before. Taking a deep, steeling breath, she tried to look a little less like a frightened mouse and more like a warrior who may or may not have been walking into a losing war.

It wasn’t much of an improvement, really, but she couldn’t give off the impression that anything had drastically changed. But despite her outward change of tune, she still wilted in relief after closing her front door and the feeling of being watched went away.


	7. Chapter 7

Mikhail showed up exactly seven minutes early on Thursday night. Sophie couldn’t deny that she’d been watching the clock nervously ever since returning home from her shift. It could have been earlier than seven minutes, though, as she hadn’t actually let him into her house. He was just suddenly there.

She shrieked when he appeared behind her in her bathroom, only knowing he was there because of the mirror. Otherwise, he could have stood there behind her for a good long while and she wouldn’t have noticed.

The bastard chuckled in amusement at her fear, showing a good deal of sharp fang.

It had taken what ended up being nearly an hour of pep talking from Ashley to prepare her for what she was going to attempt to do that night, should the opportunity arise. Even though it was only their third meeting, Sophie couldn’t help but feel—from what Ashley had told her—that she was already on borrowed time. At any given moment he could decide he had no use for her and kill her. There wouldn’t be anything she could do about it at this point.

And still, despite all the pep talking and encouraging words, she could only stand there, frozen, as he pulled her hair away from her still-bruised neck. His eyes met hers through the mirror.

Her heartbeat sped up as his amused look faded into a cold, menacing scowl as he looked at her through their reflections. Sophie decided that, having never seen him look so particularly irritated before, this was her least favorite expression from what she’d seen of him so far.

When he spoke, his words were frighteningly toneless. “You’ve been neglecting yourself.”

There was a clear note of disapproval in his words and Sophie suddenly found herself more terrified of him than usual. Did this mean she’d lost her usefulness to him? Her heart rate spiked. She hadn’t been eating or sleeping well, but could she really be blamed for that?

“N-no, I haven’t,” she argued fearfully.

One clawed hand lifted around her head to drag its tip underneath her eyelid across the darkened skin tone of the bags beneath her eyes.

“You haven’t been sleeping…”

His voice was terrifyingly neutral as he outlined the evidence of her recent inability to rest.

The claw then trailed down to her cheek, pressing deeply into her skin as it continued its path downwards. It was painful, but she was more frightened by how his eyes narrowed at the stark contrast between his black nail and her pale, slightly gaunt cheeks.

“…and you haven’t been eating.” Maintaining eye contact through the mirror, he leaned in, almost resting his chin on her shoulder as he murmured into her ear, “Now, I don’t think there will be enough of your delicious blood to satisfy me, hm? And that’s a _problem_.”

The way he spoke had her trembling. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. Part of her hated how weak she was in front of him, but a lot of the bravado and anger she had felt toward him before had withered and died under the harsh realization that she really wasn’t all that special and how easy it would be for him to kill her if she lost her usefulness.

Sophie realized suddenly that, if she survived this meeting, she would have to make certain to take better care of herself. If this was him even slightly disapproving of her actions, then she never wanted his disapproval directed at her again.

Suddenly, the tense atmosphere in the room seemed to fizzle away and a familiar, smug smirk was on his face again. “Luckily for you, I’ve fed today. However, you need to stay nourished. Come.”

He was suddenly walking out of her bathroom. Following slowly because her knees were weak and wobbly from the rush of adrenaline and subsequent relief that he wasn’t going to kill her just yet, Sophie went back into her bedroom. Mikhail had taken the liberty of opening the door to her walk-in closet and was apparently perusing her clothing.

She could only stand there, dumbfounded, as he leafed through several dresses, one after the other. “Too many colors,” he commented casually as he inspected dress after dress fleetingly. “You’ll need a new wardrobe.”

She felt a combination of both fear and relief from his words. If he wanted her to buy a new wardrobe, it could mean that he wasn’t going to kill her anytime soon, but if that was true it also meant that he wanted her in his grasp for that period of time. It was a double-edged sword, as Ashley had aptly put it.

Soon, he came across a short, lacy black dress that could barely be counted as an article of clothing. Sophie remembered with vague horror that she had gotten it at a lingerie store when Leah had insisted she buy something. It had been on a fluke shopping trip for the brunette’s second date with her now-boyfriend Max, and the dress—boasting a black corset as the top and only about a foot and a half of lacy black material for the bottom that really seemed like more of an unsatisfied designer’s afterthought than anything—had been the most conservative thing she could find in the store.

Fingering the silky material for a moment, he pulled it out by the hanger and tossed it on her bed.

“Wear that.”

Then he turned around, facing her fully and watching her closely, and waited.

Sophie glanced at the dress that she had never worn in her life and had never intended to. She’d always wanted to throw it out, but then she would remember the price tag and become unwilling to get rid of such an expensive purchase. Now she was trying to process that he was actually going to make her wear it.

“Why?” she choked out.

He eyed her clothing skeptically—tight jeans, this time, to dissuade him from taking them off and a loose, baggy shirt—and said, “Where we’re going, you’ll be underdressed.”

She swallowed with great difficulty, realizing that he meant to make her wear the dress in public. She couldn’t help herself—her anger overcame her fear, perhaps unwisely. “And where would we be going that would require me to look like a _slut?_ ”

A scarce moment later, Sophie blanched in shock at her unintended words, but he only laughed darkly. It was fortunate that her anger only seemed to amuse him. Still, it would probably be best to try to get a better grip on her emotions, especially if she was going to be covertly grilling him for information that would at a later date be used against him.

“You’ll see,” he replied, and his tone was almost playful. However, the narrowing of his eyes didn’t speak of true lenience. “Put it on, or I’ll take you there naked.”

Head whirling and heart beating quickly at the implied threat, Sophie took a shaky step towards the dress, then another. Gripping it tightly, she clutched it to her chest, giving him a clear signal for him to turn around.

He didn’t seem to catch on. It was a preferable belief to the other option—which was that he wanted her to undress in front of him.

“I’m waiting.”

Not knowing if she was signing her death warrant but unwilling to budge on the matter, she said politely but pointedly, “Please turn around then.”

He ignored her. “You have thirty seconds before I strip you and you accompany me without clothing.”

All color drained from her face. He would make good on his threat; she could see it in his eyes. Swallowing down her pride was difficult, but she turned around so that her back faced him and quickly took off her shirt, wanting to keep the amount of time that she was bare to a minimum.

“It’s nothing I won’t see eventually,” he taunted as a response to her attempt to preserve her modesty. Sophie’s cheeks flushed with a mixture of fury and shame all at once, but instead of snapping at him or starting to cry like she was inclined to, she simply hurried to change as quickly as possible.

As she stepped out of her jeans and grabbed for the skimpy dress, she tried her best to focus on her anger at the situation instead of letting her mind wander to the implication that he intended to continue using her body in other, more humiliating ways. With the distraction of plotting and planning with Ashley lately she had been able to stop her mind from straying to Tuesday night’s sexual assault, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t haunt her if she gave it the chance.

As she laced the corset to fit her snugly enough to stay up but loosely enough that her breasts wouldn’t be pushed up temptingly, she hardened her resolve to figure out a way to eliminate Mikhail once and for all. She just had to focus on surviving at this point and simultaneously gather as much information as she could.

Finally turning around, she nodded, letting him know wordlessly that she was ready. She noticed that while she’d been changing he’d picked out a pair of black heels for her to wear and given that they were one of her favorite pairs of shoes, she put them on with much less of a fuss. Before she knew it, she had locked her door behind her and he was leading her towards downtown Canton.

* * *

She looked simply _delectable_ in that short little dress.

The corset accentuated her slim waist and flared out her hips, the lower half of the dress revealing the creamy skin of her legs. Although she’d left the upper portion loose in order to preserve what little modesty she had in the scanty piece of clothing, the round tops of her breasts peeking out from the lace trim made him want to shove her up against a wall and ravish her.

He decided that although he did not like the longing stares she was attracting, if she was with him and it was clear she was his, he could stand it. Flaunting his trophy to those who would never touch her body, never taste her blood, wasn’t actually all that distasteful. Possessively, he slipped his arm through hers and pulled her against him as they walked, ignoring the rigidity of her body at the unwanted contact.

Having clearly claimed her for all those watching, he felt a certain triumph as the eyes from passersby lingered momentarily and then fell away.

Mikhail was perfectly fine to walk in silence and he was glad that she was too, although his was borne from enjoying the night sky while hers from discomfort and fear. He truly had been somewhat angered by her lack of care for herself, given that he’d longed for a taste of her blood after his previous meal being so disappointing, but it wasn’t entirely unfavorable to take her out for a nightly stroll and dinner. Yes, of course there were much more satisfying activities to be doing, but at the same time it was almost a novel experience to walk around with a very desirable someone who belonged to him on his arm. He found that the sensation wasn’t terribly objectionable.

Upon reaching the center of the city, not too far of a walk from where she lived, he headed in the direction of a restaurant that suited his taste for her that night. It was a rather nice place, but they would stand out poorly in the upper-class crowd. Not so much him as she, however, given that he had dressed her rather inappropriately for his own enjoyment. It was no matter because the bistro he had chosen was perfect for Sophie’s nutritional needs.

Because of the young woman’s wise decision to stay silent, it was an easy matter getting a table despite the skeptical, judgmental stares Sophie’s outfit attracted. After walking up to the hostess standing at the front, they were seated quickly. The blonde’s eyes stayed fixed on the floor, pointedly ignoring all looks aimed towards her.

He had been to quite a few places in Canton so far, but so far Shimon’s Bistro was one of the most austere establishments he’d come across. The floor was a cobalt blue carpet and the lower half of the walls consisted of polished mahogany wood and the upper portion painted stark white. All the furniture was polished to shine like stars and dimly lit chandeliers hung from the ceilings. Everything was sharp edges and shiny polish.

They were brought over to a booth in the far back corner of the restaurant that he had requested, given that he wanted to attract as little attention as possible. The hostess then disappeared, promising the short arrival of their waiter and leaving two menus.

The food was incredibly overpriced, but after quickly scanning the menu he found several suitable courses that would replenish her glorious blood. He would certainly be seeing her again Friday evening because he would have to deny himself tonight. He could always make up for it tomorrow.

After putting down the menu, he saw her eyes flitting over a menu of her own. He raised an amused eyebrow as her eyes shifted back and forth from two options, hesitating as she clearly tried to choose which one she wanted.

“I certainly hope you aren’t under the impression I took you here for the enjoyment of the experience,” he said just as she seemed to come to a decision. Her large, expressive grey eyes shot up to meet his, and he was disgruntled by the impression that she had forgotten he was there.

She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, closed it, and then opened it again to finally speak. “Why _did_ you take me here? Better yet, why are you doing this at all?”

“Curious?” he mocked. Instead of taking the bait, she nodded seriously.

Mikhail leaned back in the booth, eyes aimed at the ceiling thoughtfully. The question was certainly warranted given the situation and it shouldn’t have surprised him that she was curious as to why he was doing these things to her, but other than her delicious blood and his attraction to her body, he didn’t have any concrete ideas as to what he really wanted from her. The reasons were both solid enough to warrant his behavior—especially his desire for her blood—but he couldn’t help but feel that maybe there was just a little something _more_ to the issue of keeping Sophie Hart alive than what immediately came to mind. However, until he came to the conclusion as to what that something more was, the idea was something that would stay locked away in his mind.

“Your blood is exquisite,” he said at length. She blinked, obviously not comprehending. Of course she wouldn’t understand—she wasn’t a vampire. “ _Particularly_ exquisite.” He cocked an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him. She immediately backed down, her posture losing its aggressiveness. “And your body is pleasing, as well.”

This brought a flush of shame to her cheeks and she averted her eyes to look out the window, where people were milling about, talking and laughing carelessly. He could see the longing for their carefree attitudes in her eyes but said nothing.

Eventually she turned back to him. “Do you do this to people…often?” Her cheeks were still bright red.

Even though he knew what she was talking about, he was interested to find out what she defined ‘this’ as. “Do what to people often?”

The color in her cheeks flared, but she spoke despite her embarrassment. “Make them…slaves. For their blood…and-and stuff.” She couldn’t have turned any redder if she tried.

His eyebrows raised. He hadn’t thought to look at it from that perspective, but he supposed in some regards she could be considered a slave. However, Mikhail didn’t find the thought of her calling herself a slave pleasing.

“You’re not a slave,” he corrected smoothly, but offered no reasoning as to why she wasn’t one. “And you won’t refer to yourself as one.”

There was a hint of disappointment in her eyes and she tried again. “But…have you had others like me?”

His brow furrowed suspiciously and she stiffened, looking like a child who’d been caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar. “Why so nosy?”

“I-I just w-wanted to know if I was…” Her stammering was irritating.

“If you were special?” he sneered, finishing her sentence for her.

“Part of a trend,” she rectified quickly, nearly interrupting him. “So I know how long…I have to live. _If_ I’m going to live.”

“I suppose you do owe me your life,” he murmured musingly. It was clear from her expression that she certainly didn’t see things that way. He looked at her, a hard look on his face. “I don’t leave my food alive, so you _do_ owe me your life. Therefore, you are mine for as long as you remain of use. After that…”

He trailed off, shrugging.

“It depends on what I feel like doing with you.”

She wilted, leaning back into her seat and covering her face with her hands. There was no relief in her scent, although since he hadn’t promised to kill her once he was done with her there certainly should have been. Instead, there was only overwhelming despair. The smell wasn’t particularly pleasant.

He _might_ have promised to kill her—if fact, he really should have—but the truth was that after their last encounter he felt reluctant to dispose of her right away. It wasn’t so much that she shouldn’t be killed as much as it was that he couldn’t really see himself wanting to kill her anymore. He wanted to keep her for a reason he couldn’t identify.

He was reminded then that this was just a vacation, one that had only a little over a month left, and that his sire wouldn’t take kindly to him bringing home a human. It stood to reason that he couldn’t simply leave her alive after he was gone, either, not with her knowledge of his kind.

Mikhail decided it was a matter he would give more thought to later. There were always options.

Just then, the waiter appeared to take their order. Not allowing Sophie to speak, he ordered her a large salad, a medium-rare steak with a side of steamed vegetables and roasted red potatoes. At the idea of eating a rare steak she looked like she was going to argue, but he shot her a look that promised retribution if she were to speak against him. For himself, he ordered a glass of expensive 1908 Merlot and nothing else. Human food would make for an interesting show, and not one he wanted to give.

If the waiter was curious as to why two unlikely people dressed like them were in such a fancy restaurant or how they were going to pay for such an expensive meal, he was wise enough to stay quiet. Reminding them of his name and telling them that their order would be out shortly, the waiter left without a fuss.

Mikhail propped his chin on his hand, leaning on the table. He never liked these kinds of restaurants because they were always so boring. However, the young woman in front of him was not boring and he decided that he wanted to know more about the human he had claimed as his own. It was a way to pass the time, anyway.

“You’re a twenty-two-year-old female in the 21st century,” he commented nonchalantly. “What is it like?”

Sophie had been looking out the window with that same longing on her face, but at his question her eyes snapped back in his direction. It was clear she was startled by his sudden interest.

“Well, I guess…I mean, I don’t know? That’s like me asking what it’s like to be a however-old-you-are…er…” She lowered voice almost inaudibly so that only he could hear it. “…vampire.”

“I believe it’s three-hundred and forty-seven in November, if I remember correctly,” he said with a smirk, enjoying the way she stiffened at the large number. “And it’s quite enjoyable. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. The world is my oyster.”

Swallowing with some difficulty, she asked, “Then…you were born in the 1800’s?”

“Something like that.” He cocked a brow, letting her know that he had no interest in talking about himself.

She caught the hint. “Well, I work at a café right now…” the look on her face told him that she knew he knew that, but she went on anyways, “because I’m saving up for college. It’s so expensive now that you have to have serious funds if you want to stay out of debt.”

“Debt, hm? These days, aren’t parents supposed to help out with that kind of thing?”

She suddenly looked wary. “My father doesn’t support me anymore.” Her expression was hardened defensively. He was curious about that, particularly the way she only said _father_ , but decided that it wasn’t important at the moment. Still, that brought up a more interesting question.

“So you’re all alone in the big, bad world?” he taunted with a toothy smirk. The way she went rigid told him that she had been hoping he wouldn’t make the connection.

“I have my friends,” she snapped, “and they’re better than any blood relative I could ever ask for.”

He chuckled, amused at her vehemence. Some good her friends were doing her now—they were only helping him keep her under his thumb. After a moment, he went on curiously. “And school. What will you study?”

“Given that I live that long?” Her voice spoke of irritation and apprehension in equal parts. “Theology.”

“Theology,” he repeated flatly. “Don’t you have any aspirations in life?”

She glowered at his insult. “I’ve always been interested in spirituality and religions and all that. They give the world meaning.”

Mikhail wondered then if she understood that they were carrying on a normal conversation much like two people on a first date would. From the annoyed look on her face and the way she was glaring at him, fear only like an afterthought in her scent, he found it safe to assume she hadn’t come to that realization yet.

However, _he_ had and he found he didn’t mind it all that much even though that didn’t make much sense. It was strange, thinking of this outing as a date, but not wholly unpalatable. And even though she was only not terrified of him at the moment because he was acting somewhat normal—and also completely out of character—it wasn’t so bad, this lack of fear. It couldn’t go on forever, of course, because he much preferred being feared to being respected or admired, but while this comfortable conversation lasted he decided he would enjoy it for what little it was worth.

It was quiet for a moment, but before he let her catch up to his thought process and realize they were acting like they were on a date, he continued the conversation. “I can tell you as someone who will live longer than you could ever comprehend, religion is all a joke.”

She frowned at him. “Even if it is,” she replied, “humans are meaning-givers. If we don’t keep believing in _something_ , we’ll lose hope. It’s like the thought of an afterlife. There’s no proof, but it gives us comfort to think that there’s something that comes after all the suffering and pain in the world. That’s basically what religion gives us—hope and meaning.”

He mused on that silently. It was an interesting notion; he’d never given the idea much thought before. He supposed for short-lived humans, the thought of something better after death _could_ be comforting. As a human—a terrible time he didn’t make an effort to recall very often—he’d only sought a way to find power and transcend the mortal suffering of the world. Upon meeting his sire and having his wish granted, going from the victim to the victimizer, he’d found no need for an afterlife or a religion. He owned this world and there was no need to believe in anything other than himself or a want to think there was something more after he died. Because he had the here and now. He never had to die.

“An interesting thought, Sophie dear,” he purred. She stiffened uncomfortably when he said her name and he didn’t doubt that she disliked hearing him refer to her so familiarly. At the same time, way her name rolled of his tongue was almost sensual to him. He decided he liked it. “But even with all that said and done, how are you to make a living with such a useless degree?”

She huffed. “I’ll find a way. There are plenty of things I can do. It doesn’t matter how much money I make as long as I’m…happy….”

It seemed the despair of her situation had suddenly hit her full force once more and she clammed up. Chances were that none of her dreams of going to college for _theology_ of all things or making a happy, if not meager living, were going to ever come true. She couldn’t do such things if he were present in her life and quite honestly, he found he had no intention of leaving her until he had to.

There wasn’t much of a lull in conversation before the food arrived. The meal was consumed in silence, with only a stern command to eat all her food to remind her why they were truly at this restaurant. The wine was decent as far as he was concerned. It looked enough like blood to give him the impression of having fed even if he wasn’t all that hungry in the first place.

She ate almost everything he’d given her—she finished the salad and the vegetables and potatoes, but since she was unused to such rare meat she had a little harder time eating the steak. Still, she managed to force most of it down and that was all he cared about.

The walk back to her apartment was a quiet affair after, for once, actually paying for the meal. Mikhail decided he’d enjoyed the outing all in all, even if he wasn’t going be able to taste her delicious blood the way he wanted to. Still…

They arrived at her doorstep and she gave him a tentative, frightened look—they were back to their regular dynamic of her fearing him and him using her for his own purposes.

He smiled toothily at her, leaning against the wall adjacent to her casually. “Tomorrow, 11pm. _Alone_.”

Sophie’s eyes widened at thought of seeing him again so soon. She looked like she was going to protest, however weakly, but he wasn’t going to allow it.

“Tonight was a waste of my time because I had to take care of you,” he told her, leaking some latent irritation into his voice. She flinched at his words. “So I’ll see you tomorrow. Problem?”

She heard the challenge and threat in his voice and wisely didn’t step up to the plate. Wordlessly, she averted her eyes and nodded, turning to the front door to let herself in.

Just as it unlocked and she was about to step in, he spoke again. “Sophie.”

Wary at the dangerously soft tone of his voice, she turned back to him. She was biting her lower lip nervously and his eyes were drawn to her plump, rosy mouth.

It was pure instinct from that moment on.

He closed the space between them instantly and yanked her into him, crushing his lips against hers. Terrified and broken out of whatever complacency she had felt at the seemingly nonthreatening night, she screamed into his mouth and tried to push him away. Gripping her forearms to disarm her, he switched their positions and slammed her against the wall he’d been leaning on, pressing himself up against her lush body and forcing her lips open with his tongue.

Like seemingly all of her, her mouth had a pleasing flavor to it. He pried her gritted teeth open and slipped his cool tongue into her hot mouth. She was screaming, but her cries were muffled by his lips. He forced her tongue to dance with his and was thoroughly enjoying the kiss when her teeth suddenly tried to clamp down on his tongue.

He pulled away just in time before she could attempt to sever his tongue with her teeth. “Your friends,” he threatened heatedly. His mouth was then crushed against hers again.

When he thrust his tongue inside her mouth again, she was limp and pliant but no less unwilling. Her lips were soft against his own and her mouth was hot and velvety, so despite her lack of participation the action of kissing her was definitely pleasant.

Even if it served no real purpose—it wouldn’t arouse her, nor would it be a decent way to feed on her—he decided he would do it more often regardless.

She was inhaling and exhaling heavily through her nose and he was reminded that unlike him, she needed to breathe. He pulled away at last, leaving a parting cut on her inner bottom lip with his fang and pulling several warm drops of her blood from her wound, sucking hard on her lower lip.

The tantalizing taste of her delicious flavor, just a few teasing droplets, would have to last him until the next day.

And then he was pulling away, releasing her and stepping back. Her forearms would have bruises where he’d gripped her too tightly in the moment of passion, but he knew she would be smart enough to cover them up however she needed to.

Sophie was panting, leaning almost limply on the wall he’d pushed her up against with her eyes closed and slow tears trickling down from between her eyelids. Her visage was truly beautiful and the mere thought was enough to surprise him.

Nonetheless, he made sure he was gone by the time she finally opened her eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley has a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!
> 
> Just wanted to put it out there that I currently have a downloadable full copy if you're interested in getting it all right away. It's free, but you can donate to support me if you want. It's totally optional and up to you (so I don't think this counts as an advertisement? Someone please let me know if it does so I can remove it, I don't want this to get taken down.)
> 
> I don't think I'm allowed to give links, so you'll have to search for it yourself (it's on the first page of Google though under the search, that I can assure) but if you're interested, it's out there and FREE. Of course, I will keep updating on here gradually. I unfortunately can't keep up with my original schedule, but I'll try.
> 
> Cheers!

Work the next morning couldn’t come soon enough.

Sophie was full of energy when she arrived. It was the longest time she’d had to recuperate since being accosted by Mikhail last Saturday and she felt refreshed. The meal last night had been wonderfully reenergizing and the restaurant had been great, Mikhail’s unwanted presence and the awkward conversation notwithstanding. She had shoved the forced kiss from her mind, just as she’d promised herself she would do with all of his unwanted sexual advances. The feelings of disgust still coursed through her body, but she did her best to ignore them.

Despite immensely disliking interactions with him in any way, Sophie felt she’d received more information than ever could have hoped for. She didn’t feel like she had been very successful when she’d tried asking her own questions, although he had answered them semi-helpfully and didn’t seem to have suspected anything. He had been more interested her actual self for some strange reason—there was no reason for their connection besides her blood and the other things she wouldn’t mention, not even in the recesses of her mind.

Her shift started earlier than usual, catering more to the breakfast rush than her usual lunchtime shift. She figured that Ashley wouldn’t be there for a while, but when eleven o’clock came around and Ashley wasn’t there, Sophie became nervous that something had happened to her. There was the possibility that it was related to Mikhail and the ongoing threat he posed, and she anxiously went to check the schedule to make sure her best friend was coming in at all. She couldn’t risk seeing her outside of work anymore given that Mikhail could possibly follow them and overhear their incriminating conversations. That simply couldn’t happen.

However, it turned out Ashley was due to come in at three in the afternoon and she showed up promptly at that time in the customary blue waitress uniform. Sophie gave her a meaningful look when their eyes met as Ashley headed to the back to clock-in and her friend nodded in return. Unfortunately, since Ashley had come in so late, the blonde would be hard-pressed to get a reasonable length of time to speak to her before she had to leave to avoid suspicion. After Mikhail had watched her leave work these past few days she had no idea how much he knew about her work schedule. She wasn’t willing to risk anything.

Luckily, Ashley convinced Mr. Tiller to let her have a break at four, which was when Sophie got off. They met up in the back, where they waited patiently for Callie to pack up her things after her shift.

“You two certainly are close, aren’t you?” Callie observed casually after she had changed into a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt that did nothing to disguise her voluptuous figure. “Always back here, being so secretive.”

Sophie winced at the observation, but Ashley just shrugged. “I’m having guy problems and breaks are the best time to discuss them. Lord knows he hogs up the rest of my free time.”

Callie gave a wry smile and only shook her head before waving and leaving. Sophie slumped into her chair, relieved, after the older woman was gone.

“Nice save,” she said, smiling. “But have we never really spent so much time together here? I mean, you’re my best friend.”

Ashley grinned, but it was half-hearted. “We’ve never not been able to talk about things outside of work before.”

“Ha…yeah,” Sophie replied weakly. Then she perked up a little. “I have news.”

“Already?” Ashley’s eyebrows rose.

“Well, last night he said that I haven’t been taking care of myself and took me out to dinner.”

Ashley’s expression was skeptical. “Really? So far that seems way out of character. From what I can tell, taking his food out to dinner isn’t exactly his M.O.”

Sophie shook her head. “Not at all. I was surprised, too, but it worked in our favor. He actually wanted to…talk? I don’t think you could really call it a conversation, but it gave me some time to pry.”

Her friend motioned for her to go on. Sophie took a deep breath, steeling herself before she had to relive the experience. It hadn’t been terrible—the only thing she really had to block out was that _kiss_.

“It didn’t really go well asking questions, but I don’t think he suspected anything. He’s over three hundred!” Her voice took on a frightened tone. “He said three-hundred and forty-seven in…November, I think.” Ashley’s eyes widened and Sophie nodded in agreement. “I know, I can’t even fathom being that old. He, uh, also said that it’s unusual for him to leave victims alive afterward, and that as long as I remain ‘useful,’ he’ll let me live.”

Ashley’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s not exactly good. Did he tell you why he’s decided to keep you alive?”

The blonde frowned. “He said my blood was ‘particularly exquisite’…”

_“And your body is pleasing, as well.”_

Blood rushed to her face and she turned away from Ashley’s watchful eyes.

“-and that’s all,” she rushed.

Ashley frowned and there was a knowing look her eyes.

“He’s not using you for-”

“No!” But it was too hurried of a response to make it a decent lie. “No,” she repeated, clearing her throat nervously. “No, not _that_ at all. Just, uh, yeah. My blood.”

Ashley frowned deeply but clearly understood that Sophie did not want to talk about it. When she went on, even though the look on her face told her that once again, Sophie was a horrible liar, it wasn’t on the same subject.

“So, you’re his meal ticket basically because apparently you taste _really_ good,” Ashley said flatly. “And he doesn’t usually keep his victims alive, but you taste _so_ good that he’s willing to make you a serious liability. I don’t know, Soph, but I think we’re missing something big here.”

Sophie went pale. “There’s nothing else. Anything else he said wasn’t too important as far as the situation goes. He’s mean, arrogant, and extremely condescending. And unfortunately, he’s also kind of intelligent.”

“It’s to be expected if someone’s lived that long,” Ashley replied. “Even as a vampire. Just because they’re at the top of the food chain doesn’t mean that surviving is easy—especially because their greatest strength is that the general populace doesn’t know they exist. If everyone suddenly realized vampires existed, there’d be mass chaos.”

“But wouldn’t everyone just want to hunt them down? With enough of us in it, we could get rid of them altogether.”

Ashley sighed. “It’s not that simple. I asked Jared about it recently because I was trying to figure out a solution for you and he said that there _are_ law enforcers and politicians who know about vampires. It’s really hush-hush, of course, but people in power do know about them. They’ve made the conscious decision to not say anything.” The tone of her voice was not happy.

Rage slammed into Sophie like a tidal wave. “Why not?” she demanded. “I wouldn’t be in this whole mess if-”

“No, it’d be worse,” Ashley cut off seriously. She sounded even more unhappy now. “Those people are smart not to say anything.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Sophie replied hotly. “Letting innocent people die because of _why?_ ”

“Sophie…” Ashley exhaled harshly as she struggled to explain the situation. “As far as being at the top of the food chain goes, vampires haven’t been very ambitious. Do you know how easily they could take over the world if enough of them decided they wanted to? Because vampires are notoriously independent and usually only stay in small groups because it makes life easier, there probably isn’t a coven large enough to do anything drastic.”

“…Coven?” Sophie asked.

“It’s what a group of vampires is called, I guess. Like a murder of crows or a flock of sheep. I don’t know, really, but that’s what Jared says. He’s in one. Anyways, depending on how strong the vampire is, they can pose a serious threat in a fight. Get enough of those really strong vampires together and that’s a war we might actually lose.”

The realization hit Sophie pretty hard. “You mean… _vampires_ could take over the _world?_ ”

Ashley shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe. But that’s the thing—there hasn’t been any reason to because things work just the way they are. Jared told me that vampire hunter guilds do exist to keep the vampire population from overwhelming us, but anyone who knows about vampires and goes to the police is usually sworn to silence. The way things are now works in terms of the greater good.”

“So you’re telling me…” Sophie was disbelieving. “If I were to go to the police, I’d just be told to keep quiet?”

“I don’t know about your situation specifically. The fact that your life is in danger and you’re going through something akin to torture, they might contact a guild. But…” Ashley sounded miserable, apparently not convinced by even her own words.

Hope fluttered through her momentarily before it wilted. “But he’s threatened Kenneth and Dean’s lives and if he caught wind of what I was doing, I just know it wouldn’t end well. I’m not willing to take that risk.”

Ashley frowned. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“And so the people that are killed—what happens to their families? Are they lied to?”

“I suppose so.”

Sophie flushed in anger. “That’s despicable. This whole thing is just disgusting _._ People are being murdered and their families don’t even know-” She was brought to pause. “Wait a second. Ash, how are _you_ allowed to know this stuff? If secrecy is so important for everyone, why did Jared tell you?”

Now Ashley was flushed, but for an entirely different reason. “I kind of…walked in on Jared feeding once. He had to tell me then, but he didn’t want to kill me. And it’s…up in the air about what he’s going to do about it. He might have to turn me.” Ashley’s eyes hardened. “You are the only person beside Jared who knows I know. You _cannot_ say anything. We’ve been keeping it a secret and it can’t get out or I might be forced to be turned.”

Sophie’s eyes widened and the anger rushed out of her. “No! You can’t become a-”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that. You _can’t_ tell anyone.”

“On my mother’s grave,” Sophie swore. “I promise.”

Ashley smiled weakly before forcibly changing the subject. “Well, we still need more information. But now that Jared has told me about the guilds, there’s a chance we can contact one on our own and they can do something about it. Even though they’re technically there to just cull the population, some are really determined to just get rid of all of them. That’s preferable for everyone, I think, but only of few guilds apparently try for that extent.”

“Would Jared know any of them?”

Ashley snorted. “No. He’s a vampire, remember? He has no business with guilds.”

“Of course not,” Sophie said with a sigh. Then her eyes found the clock. “Oh, Ash, you’d better get something to eat. Your break’s almost over and I need to get going in case…he’s watching.”

Ashley nodded. “Yeah, definitely. Keep trying to get information, okay?”

Sophie nodded. “Absolutely.”

They embraced and Sophie hurried to leave. On her way out the door, Sophie’s cell phone rang. It was Kenneth and it turned out that he and Dean wanted to come over to plan a mutual friend’s surprise birthday party. Warily, Sophie agreed on the stipulation that it could only be a little while.

Thankfully, she didn’t get the feeling she was being watched at all on her way home and for once she felt a measure of safety. Daytime hours were now the equivalent of a women’s shelter for her.

Not long after she got home, Kenneth and Dean arrived, and Sophie allowed herself to be lost in the normalcy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate is set in motion. (NSFW)

It was wonderful, plotting and planning and scheming with her friends. It was like a breath of fresh air in the smog of the disastrous turn of events in her life.

The sky had darkened considerably and Sophie absently went to close the curtains in her living room to maintain some privacy. Kenneth and Dean were still arguing over which restaurant was _really_ Lola’s favorite and the incessant banter was something like a peaceful background buzzing.

It was only upon reaching for the curtains to close them, glancing outside to look at the sky, when she noticed just exactly how late it was. Her eyes found the clock.

10:54pm.

She panicked.

Pulling the curtains shut with sudden vehemence, Sophie turned to her friends.

“Hey, do you think we can continue this tomorrow?” Her words came out rushed, no matter how she tried to keep her terror inconspicuous. Mikhail always emphasized the _‘alone.’_ He’d stated he would kill anyone who was there uninvited and she truly believed him capable of it.

Sophie’s heart raced, feeling like it was going to burst from her chest.

Kenneth and Dean turned to her. “Uh…yeah?” came Kenneth’s tentative reply.

“Good,” she said in a slightly-too-high-pitched voice, despite her best efforts to remain calm. She began to usher them towards her front door. “Off you go!” Her voice was too nervous not to betray her fear, no matter how she tried to appear unaffected. In fact, it was only getting worse as the seconds passed.

Then she felt eyes on her and horror zinged down her spine. Jerking towards the window, she confirmed that the curtains had been successfully closed. So…how?

Not having any more time to think on the issue, she almost shoved them towards the door.

“Hey!” Kenneth protested. “What’s the sudden rush?”

“Everything okay?” Dean asked, not as oblivious as Kenneth and obviously catching wind of her panic.

Sophie shook her head. “Everything’s-”

She saw the flicker of a shadow from the corner of her eye, just in her peripheral vision. Upon recognizing the silhouette whose shadow was just noticeable on the wall by the staircase, she knew immediately that Mikhail was standing on the stairs just out of sight; she wouldn’t have known it if the light wasn’t outlining him just right.

“Out! Out!” she said shrilly, heart frozen in her chest.

Kenneth looked at her strangely and Dean gave her a look that promised questions later, but within moments they were out the door safely, even if they were bubbling with suspicion. Exhaling in relief and slumping against the door, she tried to catch her breath.

Said breath was snatched away when Mikhail spoke, his tone frigid.

“I told you to be _alone._ ”

“Th-they weren’t meant to be here this late! I lost track of time!” she stammered fearfully. “It-it won’t happen again.”

He sniffed haughtily. “For their sakes, I certainly hope not.” He observed her and seemed pleased with what he saw. “Good. You slept.”

Sophie nodded in hesitant confirmation. It was true; the bags under her eyes were noticeably better after her deep, restful sleep last night. Her skin had regained some of its pallor and over all, she looked much healthier. She still wore the scarf and the bruises on her forearms from the night before had been covered up with a generous slathering of concealer, but other than the scarf and the slightly darker tone of her arms, she appeared perfectly normal.

Mikhail descended down the staircase slowly and every deliberate step made her shiver. She vaguely recalled not being afraid of him momentarily at dinner last night, but it seemed like a far-off memory with how threatening he was making himself as he approached her—his eyes never wavered from hers and she could see the hunger in his red irises. Unfortunately, she knew now the color wasn’t due to contacts.

He stopped once he was directly in front of her. Long, claw-tipped fingers grasped her chin and tilted it upwards, then turned it side to side. She couldn’t help but wonder fearfully what he was thinking. What was putting that thoughtful expression on his face?

It was revealed soon enough. He suddenly jerked her toward him and forced his lips onto hers, much like the night previous.

She shrieked and instinctively tried to pull away. However, the low, dangerous growl that was emitted from deep within his throat brought her to pause.

Still gripping her chin tightly, he pressed her up against her front door. She whimpered as the doorknob pressed into her back but he ignored her discomfort, pushing his tongue into her mouth and exploring heatedly.

Sophie’s stomach turned in disgust at the passion that was evident in the kiss and she couldn’t stop the helpless tears that leaked from her eyes as she closed them in resignation. Kissing wasn’t so bad, she supposed, but if he tried to take it further, she couldn’t just not fight him.

She knew, even though she wanted to deny it, that he probably wouldn’t stop at kissing that night.

He pulled away, allowing her to breathe as he began to fondle her, brushing his thumbs over her clothed nipples roughly. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at his unwanted touch and she wanted to beg him to stop, but then he was kissing her again and her words were caught in her throat.

His hands trailed down from her heaving chest to her waist, running down her sensitive sides, before he gripped her rear and pulled her hips against his. She felt a bulge in his pants and the sudden realization that he might _rape her_ brought a new rush of panic.

She shoved at his chest, desperately trying to put some space between them and let out a loud cry of protest into his mouth. He punished her by crushing her brutally into the wall, the pressure making it even harder to breathe as he growled like a predatory animal.

His tongue was still tangling passionately with hers, even though she made no motion to reciprocate. Then he abruptly slid his hands down from her rear and parted her thighs, lifting her legs effortlessly and forcing them to wrap around his waist.

Sophie shrieked and fought harder at the intimate touch of his groin against her core, clawing at his front in a vain attempt to hurt him enough to get him to back off. Her panic only increased as he began to grind into her. She tried to twist away from the kiss, to tell him to _stop_ , but with the painful pressure he was applying to her lips kept her head stuck in place.

At long last he let her breathe when he pulled away and she could only gasp for air as he trailed kisses down her jawline in the direction of her neck. He paused right over his previous bite.

“We’re going to conduct an experiment,” he told her, but before she could say anything, he reopened her wounds and bit down harshly.

Only a small, pained whimper passed her lips as he let her blood flow into his mouth. She wasn’t sure what experiment he was supposedly conducting, but she thought it might have something to do with her blood when he pulled away from her neck only shortly after he bit her.

Then he was backing away from the door, keeping her anchored to him by her legs. Within moments they were back on the couch and Sophie knew what was going to come next. It had happened so quickly she hadn’t even had time to protest.

“No! No!” she screamed. He smirked at her wickedly.

“I came prepared this time,” was his non-sequitur response, and then he pulled a thick black piece of fabric out of his back pocket.

She was about to beg him to stop when he suddenly stuffed the rag into her mouth, jamming it in fully. She immediately tried to remove it, but he pinned her wrists together and then his belt was restraining her arms, just as it had the first time this had happened.

Sophie screamed desperately at her complete, utter helplessness, but the rag did its job in muffling her voice. Yet again he ripped through her shirt and she thought, in such hysterical denial that it was almost funny, that she shouldn’t have worn one of her favorite shirts that day, nor should she do so any other time Mikhail told her he would visit her.

The bra was next to go and he cupped her breasts, rubbing clawed fingertips over her nipples until they pebbled. Her skin prickled in revulsion but there was nothing she could do but thrash and cry uselessly. His mouth latched onto her right breast just as he removed his hands to unbutton her jeans. She bucked to try and dislodge him, but he only returned the action by grinding his pelvis into hers. He had hardened considerably since the very beginning—what had once just been a bulge was a formidable hardness that spoke of pain in what was probably the near future.

He removed her jeans entirely that time with quick maneuvering, bringing her innocent white cotton panties with them instead of shredding them. He was still suckling her breast, alternately nipping her with his fangs painfully and soothing the little bites with his inhumanly heatless tongue.

She let out a wretched, muffled cry when she felt the stirrings of arousal in her lower abdomen.

Mikhail quickly spread her thighs once more, having allowed them to close in order to take off her jeans and panties, and was tickling her most sensitive area with his claw. It was unfortunately arousing despite the knowledge that in an easy, singular moment of harshness he could cut her there very painfully.

Having fully attended to her right breast, he switched to her left with growing fervor and two fingers were pushed into her core. She winced and whimpered at the uncomfortable stretching feeling, but was despairingly thankful that he hadn’t cut her like last time.

He immediately targeted her traitorous bundle of nerves, his tempo so precise and rapid that against her will, she started bucking her hips in time with movements.

Her abdomen clenched so hard it almost hurt when she suddenly came. A loud moan, strained as it was when she tried to choke it down, erupted from her throat as she spasmed around him.

He pulled away from her breast and then quickly bit down in her neck, breaking through the marks, barely scabbed over, in the same place he always seemed to target.

She was only under the illusion that he would stop for a moment. He pulled away from her neck, although much more quickly than she thought he would, and she thought her shameful ordeal was over. However, he only yanked the black fabric from her mouth and replaced it with his lips and tongue. The movement of his fingers resumed, faster and harder than before.

It took less time than before to make her come again and he swallowed her cry with his lips this time, the volume raising due to her heightened sensitivity after the first orgasm.

Using his free hand to cover her mouth, he returned to her neck and tasted her again, but only briefly before kissing her again and then forcing her to orgasm once more. She gagged at the taste of her blood in his mouth, but he ignored it.

She lost track of time and refused to count how many times he shamefully made her come and then fed on her, but what she did know that it was _too_ many times. Just once was too many by her standards, but by the time he latched onto her neck and began to feed in earnest, her thighs were trembling from how hard they’d clenched repeatedly and her body was lax and weak. She didn’t have the energy to even open her eyes, not even to scream when her mouth was no longer covered. Even her tears had stopped from her extreme exhaustion.

She was nearing unconsciousness when he at last licked over the skin he’d broken and got off her. She was so defeated by the humiliating experience that she couldn’t find it within her to worry about whether he was going to remove the belt from around her wrists.

When he returned, she was vaguely surprised to find that he was holding a glass of orange juice, one of the groceries she’d bought the day after he’d first assaulted her.

“Drink,” he commanded. When he lifted the glass to her lips, it was all she could do to slightly part them and allow the juice to flow into her mouth. In some part of her mind she felt like she should protest, but there was such authority in his tone that she couldn’t muster up the will to fight. She swallowed sluggishly and he tipped the glass slowly until she’d drank all of it. Her stomach protested the liquid, but she was able to keep it down without more trouble than she could handle.

Then the belt was removed and Sophie let out a soft sigh of relief that he would finally be leaving, her eyelids barely able to open. She decided she would simply fall asleep on the couch because there was no way she could muster the energy to climb that long staircase and somehow make it to her bed.

Her train of thought didn’t get that far because suddenly she was being lifted up. Mikhail had one arm in the crook of her knees and the other under her shoulders, cradling her small body against his chest.

She knew she wasn’t thinking clearly when she willingly rested her head against him, closing her eyes and wishing to fall asleep. It was horrifying to think that she could find even the slightest respite with him after all the horrible things he did to her, and yet she was asleep before they were even halfway up the staircase.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikhail gets some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> I just want to thank everyone who has donated when ordering SCH on that "itch"y website. A clean version - though why would anybody want that? - might be coming soon to a tropical rain forest. ;) I appreciate everyone's support and hope you all have enjoyed the full version or are enjoying the story here. I gotta say, I've never been more inspired to finish the second book, and that makes me SO excited. I can't wait for everyone to be able to find out what happens next.
> 
> However, we're here on chapter 10 currently and
> 
> *spoiler alert*
> 
> ~~this is a major turning point in the story~~
> 
> I hope you like it!

His experiment had proven quite fruitful.

Not only was her blood more delicious after an orgasm, it became ever richer and more dizzyingly delightful the more she came because of the chemicals her brain sent into her bloodstream during her orgasms. By the end, he had been hard-pressed not to simply finish her off.

He’d drank too much, so he’d been obligated to get her something to strengthen her body in order to ensure her survival, hence the orange juice. As such, his inability to control his bloodlust meant that he would have to stay with her through the night to make sure she didn’t die. Obviously, a hospital visit was out of the question, even though she could probably use some donated blood at the moment. He would simply have to monitor her and wake her up every hour or so to force food and drink down her mouth if her breathing slowed too much.

If that didn’t work, he’d just have to improvise. He wasn’t going to let her die on him.

He leaned her against the wall across from her bed, noting her naked form. He wasn’t quite sure why he did it, but choosing at random a t-shirt and pair of shorts from her chest of drawers, he quickly clothed her unconscious body before picking her up again.

Laying her on her bed and tucking her under the pale pink comforter, he watched her breathe softly and peacefully. The moon shone in from her window, illuminating her skin and making her look almost like an angel. Her blonde hair was shimmery and pale in the whitish-blue light and her dark lashes fluttered against her cheekbones as she slept.

Thoughtlessly, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. She shivered weakly at the feather-light touch of his claws.

Before he knew it, he was tracing the contours of her face with a black nail, feeling the softness of her skin, the color of porcelain in the moonlight, and watching her almost reverently. He knew then that he couldn’t get her go. Somehow, some way, in the short span of just under a week he had become attached. It should have been impossible and yet it had happened; this foreign feeling was unwelcome in his chest. Even in his human life he’d never been romantically attached to anyone, too focused on finding the life he knew he deserved.

Once he had obtained his immortality, power, and consequent vengeance, Mikhail had worked tirelessly for his sire as repayment for his turning, as most fledglings did. After he’d completed his debt some two hundred years ago, he had found his sire had a lifestyle to offer that Mikhail couldn’t refuse. There was security in his position, the promise of plenty of thrilling hunts, as well as the fact that it was a good way to grow in power and skill. He could safely say he had surpassed his sire and the four others who worked alongside him by now. At this point he was content with what he had, although should his life ever become unfavorable he could easily up and leave. His sire might begrudge him for it—in fact, he would—but both of them knew that he could do nothing if Mikhail no longer wished to obey his orders. Not if Ezekiel valued his life.

However, Mikhail was satisfied with his situation. There was no reason to change anything.

This unexpected attachment would be problematic, however, for the way he liked to live. As she was, Sophie was a weakness. Even if he turned her—and that did not appeal to him at the moment—she would remain an issue of liability. He had enemies, vampire and human alike, who would gladly eliminate her to retaliate against him. Something about her death bothered him greatly—he wasn’t fond of the feeling, but it was there.

There was a reason he didn’t form connections with others, a reason why he kept them at arm’s length, and it was relatively easy to do because the scent of fear was tantalizing and he found that screams borne from his victims’ pain were the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Most people didn’t like to form attachments to him, either. He had been called things like ‘psycho,’ sadistic, and bloodthirsty many times, even by his fellow vampires, and not all of them had been enemies.

It would be so much smarter to kill her now. It had been alright to keep her alive when she was nothing more than a plaything, but with actual feelings involved it was no longer acceptable. She was sleeping so soundlessly, and it would be simple and easy. She would feel a small stab of pain as he drained the rest of her blood from her body, and then she would be gone forever. Killing her that way would be the kindest, most humane thing he’d ever done in possibly his entire life, his time as a human included.

But as soon as the thought came it was rejected. He was rather irritated by his hesitance to get rid of her, to eliminate what was only a weakness. Since the moment he’d turned, he’d killed on instinct and had never had a trace of remorse.

And yet still he couldn’t bring himself to just end her. It would be so simple. There wouldn’t be a struggle, no consciousness or pain. He wouldn’t even have to watch the life fade from her doe-like grey eyes—the sight had never bothered him before, and he’d even relished it at times. However, the thought of seeing it in Sophie sent a jolt of unfamiliar discomfort through him.

He was getting in too deep and he wasn’t even quite sure as to why. He didn’t fully understand what this attachment stemmed from, what it meant, or why he had it. But he was aware of its presence and he knew, he _knew_ he should burn whatever this feeling was to ashes and then stamp out the remaining embers without mercy. Sophie would only create problems for his already satisfactory lifestyle.

His fangs lengthened as he seriously considered the possibility of just getting her death over with. It had been unwise to keep her alive after all, even though he would miss her blood. He was pathetic if he could form an attachment so easily over a few disjointed meetings. Was he so lonely that he’d latch onto the first person who he decided to keep around for just a little while?

He understood, then, why his sire didn’t allow humans to come to headquarters.

Still, _still_ he hesitated, even as he convinced himself to taste her blood for what would be the last time. What was it about this girl that stopped him from killing her? Why was she so special?

She was nothing useful to him, not really. Her blood was exquisite and something he’d miss dearly once she was gone, but even that was not worth the troubles she brought—things like attachment, weakness, and vulnerability. If having her around for just this short while had already evoked such intense feelings within him, keeping her any longer would just be disastrous. He had been foolish to let her live in the first place.

There was no option—he had to do it. Even if he regretted it for a little while, it wouldn’t be too long before she was just a faded memory. Soon after that, she would be forgotten entirely. He had eons to live, and he’d only known her a week. There was no reason to worry about ‘missing’ her, not even her blood.

Lifting her up by the front of her shirt—remembering the way he’d gone out of his way to clothe her brought a wave of self-castigation and disgust—he inspected the slender column of her neck where the bruise he’d given her had flared up again from the intense feeding he’d done earlier. He leaned into her, nuzzling her soft skin and inhaling her sweet cinnamon and honey scent for the last time. He noticed vaguely that it was very strangely not at appetizing as he remembered.

He swiftly bit down with the intent to kill-

_What?_

-and his fangs immediately retracted, his appetite for her blood turned into the long-forgotten feeling of nausea, and he abruptly pulled back from her neck, repulsed at himself suddenly and inexplicably. He had been entirely ready to do it, had finally convinced himself that it was truly necessary, and now his body was actively going against him—some instinct within him _would not let him kill her._

Mikhail stared at the limp, helpless human girl he was still holding up by her shirt in horror and awe all at once.

What did this mean?

Mustering up every memory of how delicious she tasted, how his bloodlust soared whenever he tasted her blood, he consciously made his fangs lengthen once more.

Yet again, when he went in with the intent to kill her, it was a repeat experience of repulsion and nausea, his fangs becoming as blunt as a human’s and refusing to pierce her. His brows furrowed in consternation. Something was wrong.

Did he have to strangle her to get this over with? He supposed it would be a more natural death. Or, if he didn’t want to waste her blood, he could slit open her throat and drink from her that way since his instincts to feed didn’t want to cooperate. Yes, he would bleed her out a slightly less conventional way, but it would get the job done. It had to be done. Sophie Hart _had_ to die.

Even with all the conviction in him that he could possibly muster, Mikhail found himself simply staring at her, not able to make any move to follow through with his decision. Every time he came upon the cusp of moving his hands to wrap around her neck, some unseen force within him made him stop.

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Almost desperately at this point, he grasped her wrist with bruising force and bared the palm that had been cut when he crushed her phone. The wound had healed well but would still easily open. He ran a claw down the cut lengthwise and blood seeped to the surface slowly, a testament to how much he had drained already.

He was surprised when the smell of her blood was now that of sewage, putrid and thick and wholly revolting. He forced himself to lap at the red liquid, despite the way its vile taste seemed to scald his tongue.

Suddenly, he lost all the willingness to kill her he had mustered and was yanking away from her, spitting the blood out of his mouth onto the bed. He couldn’t help but gag, the rancidness becoming too much. His eyes widened in panic. No matter what he did, no matter how much he needed to, he could not kill her.

At this moment, he didn’t even want to—he felt irrationally repulsed by his fervent attempts to end Sophie’s life.

He was on his feet immediately. He knew she had replaced her cell phone as he’d noticed it laying on her dining room table upon his arrival. He was going to need it—he had left his back at the hotel.

The moment it was in his hand he was dialing the number of the one person besides his sire who could possibly explain to him why this was happening. Even though this vampire wasn’t stronger than Mikhail anymore, he was the oldest of the children, being the first human his sire had ever turned.

The phone rang three times before a gruff voice grunted, “Who’s ‘is?”

“Raphael.”

There was a moment of silence and then, “Mikhail? What the fuck is this? I’m on a mission!”

“You will make time,” Mikhail responded tightly. Raphael obviously sensed the urgency in his voice because he sighed heavily.

“You’re lucky I’m not in the field right now, kid. What is it?”

“I can’t kill a human.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Can’t or won’t?”

“ _Can’t._ As in _can-not._ ”

“You ‘cannot’ kill a human. There’s a story behind this.”

Mikhail took the cue to explain the situation, keeping the details to a bare minimum and only giving the most important details.

Raphael was quiet for a long time before he at last said, “Well, fuck me.”

The younger vampire had been angered at his own weakness and had fully expected Raphael to burst out into laughter at his predicament, but he found that the way his comrade had responded so seriously bothered him more than if he’d found it amusing.

“Explain.” He spoke in a careful monotone.

“And here I thought that shit was outdated by now,” Raphael said, more to himself than anything. He went on to explain, “Well, you’ve found one of them mates.”

“What?” It wasn’t exactly a question so much as a statement of flat, muted horror.

Raphael was quiet, as though considering how to respond. “I’m guessin’ it’s pretty rare for anyone these days to come across this kind of situation because I ain’t heard of it in about three hundred years. Basics are that as vampires we occasionally stumble across others who we instinctively gravitate towards. Humans call it ‘love at first sight’ or some bullshit, but that’s nothin’ like what we go through—we got it much worse. Difference is, they say it’s only triggered once you taste your mate’s blood instead of just by looking at them.”

Immediately, he regretted having fed on Sophie that first night, but he knew there was no way he could have resisted tasting her. Mikhail felt a cold pit forming in his stomach. “Go on.”

“From what this guy told me, he was insanely attracted to this chick’s blood, just like you. Couldn’t kill her though, not the first time and not in the end. He could feed to his heart’s content, but if he crossed a certain line—probably getting too close to killin’ her, now that I think about it—he’d get sick as shit and couldn’t feed until she was tip-top again. He wasn’t as bat-shit crazy as you, but he tried to find other ways to get rid her and fucked all those up, too. Hired someone to kill her and that finally worked, but the moment it was done he went fuckin’ insane and killed the guy who did it.”

“So there’s a way to get rid of her, then.” Mikhail wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not and he hated the uncertainty. He should be happy about it.

“I wasn’t finished, kid.” Mikhail really hated it when Raphael called him that. “Yeah, he got rid of her—but like I said, he went fuckin’ _insane_. The way he acted before he killed himself makes you, even when you’re on one of your crazy little killing sprees, look like a fuckin’ harmless kitten.”

Mikhail found that hard to believe, but he didn’t care about the semantics. “So he lost control.”

“Nah, it was worse that than. He was still sane and shit, y’know, knew what was goin’ on, but couldn’t control himself.”

Mikhail nodded, feeling that this was going from bad to worse. “You said he killed himself.”

“It took about fifty miserable years, but in the end he ‘missed her too much’ and stayed outside past dawn to let the sun do its thing. Said he wanted to be with her and all that. That’s some crazy shit if I ever heard it.”

Mikhail was silent, trying to come to terms with just how in deep he was.

“I’ve heard other stories like that in passin’, but usually once someone finds their mate they just settle down with them and do that domestic bullshit.”

“The other stories. Did they _all_ go insane after their—the other’s death?” Saying the word ‘mate’ felt like committing to an oath he wasn’t quite sure he was going to make.

“Well, I dunno. They could have just been made up for some good gossip.” Raphael paused, and then he pointed out the one thing Mikhail didn’t want to acknowledge. “But if they ain’t, do you really wanna take the risk? You’re too damn powerful to throw it all away just ‘cause of some chick.”

“And what’s the other option?” Mikhail hissed menacingly. If Raphael had been there, he would have been backing away right about then.

When he spoke again, Raphael was hesitant. He knew he was entering a danger zone. “Keep her. Turn her. Make her strong. She’ll be the best ally you could ever ask for. And a mate’s blood when they’re human is s’posedly the best fare you can get as a vampire—extra appetizin’, and over time it’ll make you stronger. Damn shame it don’t seem to happen all that much anymore. I wouldn’t mind one of my own.”

“You realize that she’s not a willing participant?” His voice was deadly. He was furious.

“If you turn her, she’s already gonna get attached. Sire-childe bond and all that. And besides, you got her for all eternity, right? You’ll grow on her.” He hesitated for a moment, obviously remembering who he was talking to. “…Maybe.”

Mikhail let out a hiss of anger and frustration. He felt a headache coming on and vampires didn’t _get_ headaches.

“Hey…” Raphael said when the silence went on dangerously long. It was true the younger vampire was rarely _truly_ furious—but this was one of those times. Hesitantly, he asked, “Are you gonna-?”

Mikhail cut him off viciously. “I will not lose control.”

Raphael let out a huff, something between exasperation and grudging concern. “Yeah, well make sure it don’t happen. If you do and Master finds out I could have stopped you, I don’t even wanna think of what’ll happen to me.”

“I won’t,” Mikhail snapped, ending the call by brutally crushing the phone in his hand. Letting the mangled mixture of plastic, metal, and circuits drop to the floor, he made his way towards the stairs. Sophie wouldn’t be needing a phone anytime soon, anyways.

There was a lot to think about, but it was clear that he couldn’t let her out of his sight until he decided what he was going to do about this horrendous situation. He wasn’t willing to risk losing everything over this stupid, hateful girl _._

He’d never felt anything particularly malicious towards her before this, but now that she had been practically forced upon him he felt a good deal of resentment. He had not asked for this when he came to Canton. If he was forced to settle down and abandon his work because of this ‘mate’ business, his sire was going to regret ever sending him on this vacation.

That was if Mikhail let him live. He wasn’t truly angered often due to his normally relaxed nature, but when the line was crossed, he left a river of blood in his wake. This time, there would be an ocean.

Maybe Raphael’s concern had some validity.

And yet stubbornly, he pushed it aside.

Ascending the stairs quickly, he stalked over to the young woman who slept peacefully, totally unaware of how drastically her life had just changed. He scooped her up, opened her window, and then after dropping from the ledge, took to the rooftops and headed back to his hotel room.

He definitely had a lot to think about.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie tries something unwise.

It took Sophie a long time after she regained consciousness to actually open her eyes.

She was hurting so badly. Her body in its entirety ached—Mikhail had really done a number on her this time. She hadn’t thought he had fed as much as the first time because she had maintained consciousness even after he was done, but she felt invariably worse right now than she had the first ‘morning after.’

When she finally opened her eyes, she was surprised to find herself entirely in the dark. There were silhouettes here and there due to a muffled light coming from her right, but nothing discernible.

As her eyes adjusted, she was able to make out more of her surroundings. It quickly became clear that she was not in her room. The light, which she recognized as sunlight peeking from between tightly closed curtains, was coming from a much larger window than hers on the wrong side of the room, for starters. Now that she thought about it, the bed she was on was definitely different than her own. It was firmer and seemingly newer, the covers starchier than her well-worn pink comforter.

She panicked but her body was too weak to do anything about it. She could only lay there helplessly and try to figure out what had happened after she lost consciousness. She was sweating atrociously from what she assumed was fever and her body throbbed. Her hands and feet felt extremely cold and were trembling.

Whatever this situation was, it obviously had to do with Mikhail. Had he kidnapped her?

Instead of her heart beating faster, it seemed to stop altogether.

If he had done it as soon as he’d decided she owed him her life, it would have made more sense. Instead, he’d let her carry on a semblance of normal life for nearly a week. Even though it had been a short time, he had not shown any signs of changing his mind about her living on her own. He had even gone to the extent of threatening her friends’ lives, and even though it hadn’t stopped her completely, she’d done her best to follow all of his instructions.

Well, maybe she hadn’t done her very best, but to her knowledge she hadn’t done anything that would warrant this sudden change in behavior. Unless he’d discovered that Ashley knew? That didn’t seem right, though. He would have just killed Ashley, and maybe presented her body to show that he made good on his word. The thought made her feel sick to her stomach, and that certainly wasn’t helping anything.

However, as her body strained itself with her panic, she found herself growing tired. There was nothing she could do with how weak she was. She just had to close her eyes for a moment, take a deep breath and relax so she could think more clearly…

* * *

A few hours later she woke up again. She felt terrible, but she was able maneuver herself into a sitting position. The effort exhausted her and the bed was so _hard._

Her eyes strayed to the window on the wrong side of the room and she remembered what she had realized upon first awakening—she was not in her own bedroom in her own home and Mikhail was the cause.

If anything, the light from the window was a little brighter than before. She was able to make out even more of the room’s features. There was a chest of drawers across from the bed with a TV on top, and to her left was a closet and a door presumably leading to a bathroom. There was a nightstand with a lamp on it directly beside her. From how generic, small, and utilitarian the room looked, it was clearly a hotel room.

A movement to her right had her whirling around. Her blood froze when she realized what—or _who_ —it was. She was not alone in the bed, which she knew now was a queen-size at least. Mikhail lay there, facing her and looking rather peaceful as he slept. If he hadn’t shifted and caused her to look directly in his direction, she was sure she wouldn’t have noticed him for quite a while. It was uncanny how he didn’t breathe at all in his sleep; it must be something he subconsciously did only when he was awake. He looked more like a corpse than anything as he laid there, his pale skin contrasting starkly with his black hair and clothing. She couldn’t see very clearly, but his skin was so white that even in this darkness she could see it standing out against the patterned blankets.

She forcibly removed her eyes from him, knowing that she couldn’t focus on that at the moment. Looking past him, she saw that he also had a nightstand with a lamp and a phone.

But the phone was useless to her because she’d obviously wake him up if she so much as pressed a button. Unfortunately, it was an older corded phone that undoubtedly made beeping noises whenever she dialed a number. No, she needed to get away from him while he was still asleep. Then her eyes strayed to the window where sunlight was just begging to be let in.

Suddenly a thought that somehow hadn’t occurred to her before flashed in her mind. Wasn’t the sun a vampire’s greatest weakness? She knew it was true; it had been evidenced when she didn’t feel him watching her leave when she had first shift. It wasn’t lost on her that whatever the season in Canton, by eight o’clock at night it was always dark, and right now the sun set around six. She’d felt him watching her earlier in the day, but she vaguely recalled that that day it had been particularly cloudy out. From a shaded position he could have probably stayed safe enough, although why he would risk such a thing was beyond her.

The question was whether she was willing to risk his fury if she yanked open the curtains and he wasn’t immediately incinerated. There was the very likely possibility that he would kill her if she failed.

Was it worth it?

After a long moment of contemplation, she decided that it was. If he’d kidnapped her as he seemingly had, then he was getting serious about something. Whatever that something was, she doubted it resulted in her living much longer anyways. Better to take the chance of freeing herself of him than giving him more time to end her life and lose the chance to make things right.

Painstakingly, she tried to get out of bed as quietly as possible. She had no doubt that the slightest noise would wake him. She had to be as quiet as humanly possible until she opened the curtains in one fell swoop. Every other step, she peeked at him from the corner of her eye. She was trying her best to not breathe heavily even though the exertion of moving right now was horrendous. Thankfully, he was completely unmoving and obviously still asleep.

She hoped he didn’t wake up at all before he died. Even though he was a terrible, evil person, she didn’t think she could look him in the eyes as he burned to a crisp, or whatever the sun did to vampires, and not be scarred by the experience.

If she could help it, he’d be the only person she would ever kill.

It was his fault, she told herself. If he hadn’t forced her into this position, she would never have contemplated such a horrifying decision.

At long last she reached the window. It had taken much, much longer than it normally would have, but along with any noises she was certain that moving too quickly could wake him, too. In all honesty, she didn’t know much about real-life vampires other than what Ashley had told her. If this worked, she wouldn’t have to learn anything else, either.

Her fingers touched the curtains.

“I can kill you before you take another breath. Make your decision wisely.”

She shrieked in surprise, jerking away from the curtains and whirling around to face him. Her head spun and she was dizzy, but adrenaline allowed her to stay focused.

He wasn’t even looking at her. In fact, he hadn’t moved from the position he had been sleeping in this entire time.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been breathing so hard you would have gotten away with it,” he continued in a sleepy but startlingly cold murmur. She felt like crying—she had been afraid her panting would give her away. “Go back to bed. I have no patience to deal with you right now.”

Despite that his tone of voice wasn’t too much different what it usually was with the exception of a touch of drowsiness, Sophie could detect a difference in his attitude towards her. It was subtle but still noticeable—he definitely colder, more hardened. If she was lucky, she didn’t get the feeling that he was angry at her. It was probably because she had been going to attempt to kill him the only way she could. There wasn’t too much solid evidence even then, just something that she intuitively felt. Her instincts were screaming that she was in danger. She shouldn’t have underestimated him.

Sophie stood there for what felt like a very long time, trying to gauge whether it was even safe for her to return to the bed. Her legs ached from the strain of holding her tired body up for so long despite that she was resting heavily against the window, but fear kept her rooted to the spot. She didn’t trust him not to harm her for her transgression once she returned to bed.

By the time he growled out her name irritably to let her know that she was trying what he’d told her was nonexistent patience, her knees were too weak for her to obey him anyways. She tried to make her way back to the bed, but the moment she pushed off the window pane and took a step forward, she couldn’t hold herself up anymore and she crumpled to the ground with a loud _thud_.

She landed on her hands and knees, barely holding herself up even then. She had completely exhausted herself in her endeavor and sweat beaded on her forehead, her breaths coming out in harsh pants. It hadn’t occurred to her just how foolish it was to move when she was weak as she as was. Her stomach was twisting with nausea from her overexertion. She realized he must have very nearly killed her last night.

There was a long moment where the only sound in the room was her labored breathing.

Just when her elbows were about to give out and she was going to end up completely collapsing on the floor, the bed audibly shifted. Glancing up fearfully as Mikhail got off the bed slowly and walked over to her, running a hand exasperatedly through his hair, she fought to stay up, to maintain whatever dignity she had left. Her heart couldn’t beat any faster.

“ _You,_ ” he hissed, “ _are pissing me off._ ”

She nearly lost all her strength and buckled from the second adrenaline rush at the fury in his voice. He was clearly furious at her due to her attempt to kill him and she was immensely regretting it because from the look in his eyes, he wasn’t planning on killing her, at least not right then. He was going to punish her instead.

As he approached her predatorily, Sophie realized that even though she had always known he was dangerous, had always been afraid of him and feared for her life when he was present, she had only been exposed to an apparently relaxed Mikhail. Because of how much he already terrified her, she hadn’t been able to comprehend that it could be worse.

Well, her stupidity had led her to find out that worse was always possible. When she made the mistake of looking him in the eye, she saw a madness in his red orbs that told her he could commit atrocities she couldn’t begin to imagine if she was foolish enough to even try.

The vampire who had claimed her life was good at hiding it beneath a calm, composed façade, but he was completely, utterly insane.

Then the eye contact was broken as he loomed above her and she made no effort to look up at him, too afraid of what she would find in his expression. Her breath hitched, waiting for him to act.

Even though she’d expected some kind of pain, she wasn’t prepared for him to yank her up by her hair and start dragging her flailing body towards the bed. Shrieking, she found a strength she didn’t know she had in her and grabbed at his hand, trying to dislodge it from her hair.

He only pulled her up higher, leveling her at exactly the height where walking was impossible because of the angle but she also wasn’t elevated enough to regain her footing.

“Please!” she begged, tears of pain flooding her eyes as he dragged her carelessly. “I’ll do it on my own! Please stop!”

In what was an act of either mercy or maliciousness, he tossed her to the ground. Her head collided painfully with the floor, but at least it was carpeted and it was much better than being held up by her hair. He proceeded to the bed easily and laid back down. “You have thirty seconds. Don’t make me get back up.” The threat made her tremble more violently than she already was.

Trying to utilize the strength her adrenaline and pain had given her, she forced herself to her feet and staggered back to the bed. It was just her luck that her spot was the farthest away from where she’d come.

She wasn’t sure if it was less than thirty seconds, but Mikhail didn’t say anything, seemingly asleep again. She had no inclination to do anything other than lay helplessly above the covers and try to cry as quietly as possible.

It hadn’t occurred to her that things could get worse than they were. She had naively thought that she could live the relatively normal life he had allowed her until he got bored and killed her or she found a way to kill him. Because he had given her the freedom in the first place, she hadn’t given it much thought that he might take it away.

Eventually, her thoughts became jumbled somewhere in the middle of despair and exhaustion. Though tears still trickled down her cheeks, her sobs dissipated into hiccups and then into soft, labored sighs. Her heart was aching fiercely under the weight of everything that had happened and she considered it a blessing when her eyes finally shut and she knew only black.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, bloodshed is the only answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little earlier than I planned to post, but I still hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Please leave kudos or comments if you like the story! They really inspire me.
> 
> Note: I underestimated how far Book 2 is along. It's actually at 70k words right now. Since I have at least 8 more chapters to write, I'm expecting the story to actually clock in at around 110k-120k words. Don't hold me to it though!
> 
> I hope those of you who have read the complete story on my other websites will let me know how you liked it! Feedback is so important - it drives me to write like nothing else!
> 
> And finally, thank you to all of you lovely people reading the story! You're amazing!
> 
> Cheers!

He had hoped that after a good night’s rest he would have calmed down enough that he would be able to at least tolerate the presence of the young woman who was threatening to ruin his livelihood. Before falling asleep a little after the sun rose, he had come to the realization that he couldn’t kill her and risk losing his life. However, he had maintained a good deal of untamable rage that needed to be allowed to deescalate if he was going to deal with her at all. Almost spitefully, he wanted to prove Raphael’s worry to be unnecessary.

Then, not even three hours later, she woke him up and went on to attempt to kill him. That would not have bothered him so much if he could return the favor, but he could not. In the game of life and death, Sophie had somehow gained the upper hand because he couldn’t just eliminate her if she became too much a problem. Of course, she immediately became that ‘too much of a problem’ when he found he was unable to kill her himself. And then, only to add insult to injury, he couldn’t even have someone else kill her without the possibility of going insane and meeting the same fate, whether by his own hand or another’s opportune moment.

Somewhere deep within him, he knew he could be thinking much more clearly about this situation, but he couldn’t seem to rein in his anger.

The raging fires of fury within him, begging him to slaughter and torture, had barely begun to cool when he was reminded that she had somehow bested him when she went and tried to exploit his only true weakness: the sun. Although he couldn’t go through with it, it wouldn’t stop him from threatening her life and as long as he kept the truth about the new dynamic a dark secret in the back of his mind, she would obey him accordingly because she wouldn’t know any better. If she were to find out, though, it would be disastrous. There were always her friends’ deaths to punish her with, but if he had to take her away from Canton the threat of their deaths would become much less effective.

He just hoped his inability to kill her didn’t extend to being unable to _hurt_ her. When Sophie Hart was in a position to call the shots, he would gladly accept insanity and suicide as the alternative. For now, though, he didn’t have to think about it getting that far.

After falling into a restless slumber for the rest of the day, he found upon wakening he was in, if possible, a worse mood than before. He was thankful that Sophie was still deeply asleep—it would make restraining her so much easier.

His fangs were already lengthened, ready for a long, fruitful night of killing and his claws throbbed with the need to rend flesh. Mikhail hadn’t felt this bloodthirsty in a long while—the closest he had come to it was eleven or so years ago, when his sire had punished him unjustly and threatened to disown him. Even though they were empty words and just meant to intimidate him into good behavior, on some level Mikhail still held attachment to the older vampire. After reining in his wish to attack his sire for having the audacity to disapprove of his strongest childe, he had left for the wilderness to cool down. He’d stumbled upon a small town that was more or less isolated from the outside world and destroyed the place.

In the end, not even burning all traces of evidence and thereby the entire village could fully provide cover for the carnage. When he had calmed down enough, he’d gone back and there had definitely been a large-scale hunter investigation. It hadn’t bothered him—he had gone up against entire vampire hunter guilds before and come out victorious, but it had been amusing that they would attempt to go after him if they had discovered the perpetrator.

He couldn’t vent the way he needed to in Canton. The necessary damage control would be impossible to attain. As he bound Sophie’s limp arms behind her back, he wondered, consequences aside, if he could take on a city of Canton’s population and still manage to give every single person a unique cause of death. He had his doubts, but it was an entertaining thought that sparked creativity he would be able to exploit later that night. Having already secured her legs together, he wrapped several lengths of fabric, the product of ripping apart a shirt he cared little for, around her mouth in layers to ensure she stayed sufficiently quiet. This was achieved by tying each scrap separately at the nape of her neck. By the time he was done, her legs were completely immobile except for her knees, she would be incapable of opening her jaw wide enough to gnaw through her gag, and her shoulders would probably wake her up soon because of undoubtable soreness from their awkward positioning. She had been flipped over onto her stomach to ensure she couldn’t make a ruckus with her feet. The mattress would muffle any noise that her gag couldn’t absorb and with her arms bound loosely but securely at the elbows instead of the wrists, she was completely helpless.

Before he was ready to leave, he took a good look at a map he had taken from the hotel’s information desk. The last time he’d been angered enough to go on a ‘crazy killing spree,’ as Raphael called them, he’d been able to take on a small town and the anger he’d felt then was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. He had basically lost control of his life because of Sophie and it put him in a very uncompromising, unforgiving mood.

It might take some travel and in Sophie’s condition, he probably couldn’t leave her the way she was for more than a night without badly damaging her shoulders or seriously risking her health—he had, after all, drained too much blood and would not be aiding in her recovery via food and water for the duration of his absence. It looked like he would have to make this quick and although he didn’t like it, it just meant more blood and less fun. In his state, he decided that anything he could get would serve his purposes. He just needed to vent, to bring himself back from the brink of losing control entirely, hopefully not making a grand pronouncement to the world that vampires existed in the process, even if the government would try to cover it up as best they could. Even their power had its limits.

It irritated him that Raphael had been right to express concern. The factors of being a vampire in the first place, his profession, and his own personality combined put under too much pressure could easily turn him into a mindless killing machine, something that even his own kind agreed needed to be put down. Unsurprisingly, it was not so much out of concern for the human population as it was mercy. He toed the line more often than most of his kind because of his extremely slow fuse but consequently even more extremely violent explosions.

Every vampire dealt with the issue of losing control at times in their own way. For relatively more peaceful vampires, it could be a meditative retreat or long, arduous journey in the wilderness to ease their minds. Others would soothe themselves by reclaiming their humanity and indulging in mortal pleasures such as gambling, drinking or doing drugs excessively, and so on. Then there were those like him, who paradoxically regained sanity by embracing the inherent madness that lay within every vampire who had ever existed _._ The madness was always there; some were just better at or more inclined to hiding it than others. It was this inner madness that would take over if he were to lose control.

Fortunately for the sake of maintaining the truth about their existence, those who used violence to maintain control like he did were few and far between. Furthermore, he had only heard of a handful of vampires who surpassed his penchant for violence when their control was threatened. Two were especially legendary for their bloodlust, as well: Kanna of the Far North, a vampire who would forever be acknowledged for her conquering of the small country of Uthan and then razing the entire place, and the still-alive Alexei Valderas whose killings were always accompanied by dismemberment. If he remembered correctly, Valderas was one of the few vampires who were actively hunted by the government.

He briefly wondered if his name would ever become as eternal as theirs.

After searching the nearby areas on the map for a decent place to vent, he finally found a prison outside a town called MacPherson. The fact that it was a mere fifteen miles outside Canton’s far-east outskirts had him wetting his lips in anticipation. The only thing that made it show up on the map was the little red triangle that indicated it was a dangerous area because it was the host for a large penitentiary. The people who lived there were either staff who worked there or the prisoners themselves. With some glamours and a well-timed evacuation alarm, he could wreak all the havoc he wanted, and because there were so many convicts, anything he did could be construed to the public as the criminals turning on each other and the guards alike. He wasn’t going to discriminate and he didn’t mind if they followed suit.

No one would know the difference either way. Only an experienced vampire hunter would be able to see through the carnage and realize the true origin of his killing spree. Given the nature of his expedition, it was unlikely even an official who knew vampires existed would be concerned enough about the ‘bad guys’ being killed to have it investigated. The guards who were killed could still easily be attributed to the riot, anyways.

Putting down the map, he licked his lips hungrily. It was perfect. He could be there and back with plenty of time in between without endangering the young woman lying on his bed.

Speaking of Sophie, she was struggling weakly against her bonds subconsciously and from the way her eyelashes were fluttering against her cheekbones it was clear she was about to wake up. If she was to start crying and screaming, he wasn’t sure if even the threat of insanity and death would be able to hold him back from mangling her irrevocably and just letting her bleed out from the wounds. He was coming dangerously close to losing control and giving into his inner madness now, his rage at the situation he had been forced into growing as his grip on sanity waned. Adding to that the fact that he was practically feeling flesh rip under his claws, things were starting to become worrisome. The most critical time for any vampire’s control was the period between teetering on the brink and doing whatever they needed to do to center themselves in order to come back safely to the other side. He had spent more than too much time in that gray area.

Mikhail had misjudged his ability to regain control on something of this magnitude. Sophie be damned, he should have been heading out to MacPherson hours ago. Raphael had truly been right to say something about it. At this point, he had been playing with fire and was now very close to burning himself.

Sophie had awakened and was crying out in protest just as he slammed the hotel room’s door behind him.

_This_ was bliss. _This_ was love, joy, laughter. _This_ was breathing.

This was living.

Bellows of unbridled fury, desperate pleas for mercy, cries of abject terror, and screams of helpless agony played in the background as he plunged his arm through the guard’s soft, pliant abdomen; it was a beautiful symphony performed by a masterful orchestra in which he was the maestro.

The dying man hadn’t even let out so much as a choked gurgle before Mikhail turned around and rent passing man’s face open, his lengthened claws shredding skin. With his other hand, he punched the man in the chest so hard that his ribcage collapsed and he fell to the ground, gasping and screaming. In his distraction, he was almost taken by surprised by a prisoner who was coming at him with a crowbar—the burly man had probably come to the very correct assumption that he had orchestrated this chaos for his own purposes.

“Beast!” the large, dark-skinned man roared as he brought the thick metal weapon down with all his strength.

This was the first person to willingly confront him. He relished the thought that his prey had finally started coming to him and Mikhail grinned wickedly, showing off his blood-coated teeth and grotesquely long fangs. “Something like that.”

He caught the crowbar as it swung downwards and bent it sideways so that it was curved like a hook, then flicked his wrist to disarm his burly assailant. His attacker was nearly tossed off his feet when he refused to release the weapon and at his zeal, the vampire decided to let him keep it. The man’s eyes never left his, skillfully dodging Mikhail’s simultaneous attempt to shred the side of his abdomen with his claws.

“I _know_ what you are, filth,” the black-haired human male hissed venomously, lashing out with both the metal hook and his sturdy leg as Mikhail was pulling back from his unsuccessful attack.

Mikhail contorted his body fluidly, inhumanly. He grinned, running his tongue over his lips and baring his fangs. Even though this was child’s play, it was at least more challenging than the others he had killed so far. “Ah, an unjust conviction? Were you doing some good and your precious brethren turned on you? Such a shame your skills went to waste, hunter.” He caught the man’s leg as it was retreating and snapped his tibia in half with an abrupt twist of his wrist.

The man roared in pain, collapsing to his knees. Mikhail’s beloved claws, already soaked in blood, slashed through the hunter’s face diagonally, destroying one eye completely, blinding the other with blood, and disfiguring him irreparably in one swift movement. It might have mattered if he was going to live, but he wasn’t. Harmless or not, Mikhail wasn’t one to let a hunter live, especially not in this state.

Gripping the defeated man by the collar of his orange prison-issue jumpsuit, he leaned down to inspect his handiwork for a moment before asking, “Tell me, are there any others of your kind here?”

A bloody glob of spit on his cheek was the only answer.

“How impolite,” Mikhail chided playfully, not bothering to wipe the insult from his face. “I find decent manners invaluable myself.”

Lifting his free hand, he slowly inserted his clawed index finger into the hunter’s remaining good eye, despite his futile attempts to avoid it, until he could go no further without killing the man. He thoroughly enjoyed the agonized cries it elicited.

For all his bravado, the broken, blinded man was now crying bloody tears. “Poor thing!” Mikhail exclaimed in a mockery of sympathy, letting the hunter crumple to the ground. However, even when he was defeated the man did not give up; he lashed out at his adversary with his unbroken leg. Mikhail easily stepped over the pitiful attack, but decided he liked the man’s gumption and didn’t crush his femur.

Crouching down, he offered a deal. “Your name in exchange for your life and a chance to get revenge.”

When the man stayed silent, Mikhail internally shrugged and was mere seconds away from ripping the man’s throat out when he grunted, “Regis. I _will_ kill you, beast.”

“How delightful,” the vampire replied, giggling insanely. “You may call me Mikhail, but just in case you forget…”

Ripping through the front of his jumpsuit, he cut a jagged vertical line with his claw through Regis’s pectoral muscle. At this point the man could only let out a weak groan. He followed up with two smaller indented diagonal cuts, and then another vertical line in equal length to the first to create an M that could have spanned a dinner plate.

“Now then, I’ve left you a wonderful little reminder and don’t worry, it’s deep enough that even if you can’t see it, you’ll be able to feel it. All you have to do is not die at this point—I think I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

Cackling maniacally, the blood-crazed vampire stood from his prey and stepped into the cafeteria, where the havoc soon intensified.

The defeated vampire hunter named Regis laid on the ground, his pain starting to numb as he went into shock. He couldn’t see anything and would never be able to again.

He could hear the vampire—no, _demon_ —named Mikhail, who had done this atrocity to him and was off doing the same to countless others, laughing gleefully close by. His shrill giggles were punctuated by his current victim’s screams and Regis felt fury roil through his broken body.

“Regis!” called a concerned, familiar voice. Footsteps were nearing him rapidly and then he felt hands cradling his head. There was a sharp gasp at the sight of what had been done to him. “Who did this to you?”

“Damon?” Regis forced out when he realized who the man was. It was strange, having to identify someone solely by their voice. “Go! The vampire…he’s too strong…” His voice was weak and guttural but no less desperate.

“I’m not leaving without you. You’ll die if you don’t get help,” Damon insisted. “We got in this mess together, now we’re going to get out of it the same way—together.” And then arms were hooked under his shoulders and straining to pull up his large body.

“My leg…Damon, he-he’s looking for…more…more of us. He’s…lost control,” he panted, trying to warn his friend away.

Damon was silent but wasn’t giving up his efforts to lift Regis to his feet.

“He’s _lost_ … _control_ …” Regis grunted in a final effort to convince his friend to get out. “Mik…hail. Name…Mikhail.” He was started to lose consciousness, his ability to speak deteriorating as he fought valiantly to stay alert.

The other hunter did not respond as he finally got his friend to his feet—or rather, onto his good foot. The sounds of violence nearby were fading as Mikhail’s crazed laughter became more distant. Regis knew instinctively that the quiet wasn’t because of anything other than the fact that everyone Mikhail had come across so far was dead with the exception of himself, but he had a feeling it would not stay that way for long.

“ _Damon,_ ” Regis whispered harshly, “Sac…Heart…go…”

“Regis, I’m not leaving you behind!” the older man insisted. “We were convicted for the same crime. I’m not letting you die like this!”

If he’d had any energy to, Regis would have smiled. He hoped that Damon would stay this strong and loyal to his comrades after he escaped. Instead, it was all he could do to groan out, “ _Go_ …!”

They had been moving at a near-stagnant pace as Damon attempted to drag him away, but Regis knew his time was over. He had passed on the little information he had obtained through blood and tears and sweat and he knew that Damon would know to go to their guild with it. Their calling as hunters meant they were to protect humanity by eliminating their main predator, and not even a conviction set by their own government would stop them from doing their job. Regis knew he wouldn’t make it, but Damon certainly would, and he had to get to their guild to protect their brethren from this newest inhuman threat.

He consciously let go of any control he had over his body and Damon was forced to his knees at the sudden dead weight. The thinner man could not hold up his friend without at least a little aid and at the gesture, Regis made it clear that he was choosing not to go on.

“I promise, he will pay for this,” Damon told him in a cracked voice. “I _promise_ , my friend. If anyone can avenge you, it’ll be our people.”

Regis agreed wholeheartedly, but couldn’t say anything. He could feel himself fading quickly, and it was imperative that Damon escape, so he wouldn’t have tried to respond anyway.

In the end, Regis wasn’t sure if his friend actually escaped, although with his dying breath he hoped that he had.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things settle down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> So I've made a little book trailer for SCH :) You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7e7pr6iHnOk) or [here](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08D1SDD71). (That's not an ad, just a place you can watch it :) ) besides, the link is the clean version and I doubt anyone here wants to read THAT XD (and if I need to take it down, instead of reporting me, I'd appreciate if you'd just leave a comment and I'll fix it.)
> 
> Thank you to all of you who've been reading, it means so much to me. Rest assured that I'm working on book two. I can't be certain, but I'm hoping for a holiday release. Fingers crossed!

Mikhail left the prison town of MacPherson, which at that point resembled more of bloody graveyard than anything since the convicts and guards who hadn’t died in the chaos were now fleeing for their lives, at around 3:30am, giving him ample time to make the trip back to his hotel room in Canton a leisurely affair.

He supposed he could have stayed longer, but he knew that if he killed everyone it would have brought the incident a little too much attention to itself. The government conspiracy to keep his kind’s existence a secret was rather convenient, in his opinion. Vampires had had no official direct say in this from what his sire had told him, but there were rumors that powerful leaders had definitely been influenced in the decision. However, it was widely agreed upon that the decision had been the most efficient outcome for all involved, except for humans who weren’t aware of the danger presented. Either way, he trusted that the government would cover up his activities well enough so that it was presentable to the ignorant commoner population. There was a chance they would involve a guild because of the large number of deaths, but he wasn’t worried. After his reminder of how truly pitiful vampire hunters were these days when he had so easily maimed that Regis character, he wasn’t too concerned about what the result of being tracked and caught up to would be. If he was lucky, the fight might actually turn out to be a challenge.

Unfortunately, no one pursued him. Perhaps it was alright, though, because the bloodlust was dissipating the farther he was from the battlefield and his control over the madness within was almost back to its usual level. It was only when he saw the artificial lights of Canton’s few skyscrapers that he was suddenly forced to acknowledge the fact that he really couldn’t go anywhere in public the way he looked, no matter how much he enjoyed the feel of shredded flesh embedded under his claws or the dampness of blood on his skin and clothing.

Vaulting over a few fences in the suburbs, where everyone would be asleep at this time, Mikhail finally located a decent in-ground pool with running filters to clean up in. His clothing was definitely unsalvageable when it came to appearances’ sake, but blood was one of the main reasons he wore mostly black; at the first or even a second, less discerning glance, one couldn’t really tell the clothing was bloodied at all. The only reason he couldn’t wear this outfit again was because he’d ripped it places when he’d become overzealous.

By the time he looked relatively presentable again and was walking up the stairs to his third-story hotel room, Mikhail at last felt completely normal again. He could admit it had been a close call, but he hadn’t lost control in the end. He had calmed down radically and although this situation he faced wasn’t ideal, he could see that there were options that didn’t have to include quitting his profession, losing Sophie, or going insane and dying—all of which were, now that he was thinking rationally again, quite distasteful outcomes.

However, having somewhat come to terms with the thought of having a mate on his trip back to the hotel, he found that losing Sophie was probably the least favorable of all the possible results, especially because losing her would consequently lead to him to his death eventually in some way or another. He decided that perhaps he didn’t really need his sire or his specific position anymore; he likened it to when a child left his parents’ home, married, and had a family of his own.

It seemed like a decent comparison, excluding the part of starting a new family. Vampires couldn’t have children as it was against nature entirely. Technically, vampires themselves were a blasphemy to the natural world by being the living dead and by extension, it was impossible for a something that was dead to create life through the act of procreation.

He sincerely hoped Sophie hadn’t wanted children in her lifetime because she certainly wasn’t getting any. Even if he could have them, or had the choice of adopt, his answer would be a resounding ‘no.’

Now that he’d fully regained control of his emotions and was aware of what was going on within him, Mikhail could see where his instincts started to bleed into what he actually felt for her. Upon closer introspection, he found his sexual attraction to her was not manufactured by the fact that she was apparently his mate and, slightly to his disgruntlement, he was genuinely somewhat fond of her in his own twisted way. He didn’t know her very well at all, but what he did know wasn’t unsatisfactory and it was enough to make him amenable to getting to know her better.

Whatever decision he made moving forward at this point, it included a living Sophie by his side. They were going to have a _very_ long time together and she would spend the better part of it in his close proximity. Even if she spent centuries not speaking to him—because obviously at some point he was going to turn her, although he hadn’t decided when yet—she would give into him eventually. And if she still chose to reject him, she would live a very lonely eternity. He had known it before any of his knowledge about mates, even before he’d acted out on his physical attraction to her.

He would not share.

Finally arriving at the end of the corridor where his room was, he pulled out the key he’d hidden under the door, the tip just barely peeking out. Sliding the plastic card through the magnetized reader, the small light flashed green and the lock clicked open. He pushed the door open slowly. Sophie was unconscious again; she’d most likely worn herself out fighting her restraints.

Walking over to her, he noticed her skin had lost too much of its color and her breathing was slow and uneven. Frowning, he shredded through her bonds and the gag, gently maneuvering her body into a more comfortable position.

As soon as the fabric was uncovered from her mouth, she took an immediate gasp of air as though she’d been deprived of oxygen. He frowned at the implication—if he’d been gone too much longer, things might have taken a turn for the worse. In a detached way, it would have been almost funny; he had just come to terms with the situation and then she died by his own hand, completely unintentionally.

Observing her for a time, he noticed that her breathing was still shallow although much steadier now, but she absolutely had to have sustenance—she was extremely pale, her usual creamy skin tone a deathly white. He had an inward jolt of panic. It was possible that Sophie was on death’s door and that would mean that she would have to be admitted into a hospital, something he could not allow.

For a moment, there was an irritated pause when he realized there was simply no human food, not even nonperishables, in his hotel room because as a vampire he had no need for it. He wanted to get her something nutritious and healthy, but at this time of night he’d be lucky if there were any stores open at all.

Furthermore, he only had another thirty minutes before the sun would start to rise. As he was still invigorated from his spree it would not be difficult to stay up into the daytime hours to keep watch over her and make her eat as much as she could handle, but if he was going to do that he would have to stock up.

With his limited timeframe, his best option turned out to be a 24-hour gas station that had a small grocery section. Refrigerated, previously freeze-dried fruits and vegetables were the best he could get when it came to vitamins, but he also picked out a relatively fresh pasta salad that had a few redeeming qualities in the form of carrots, peas, and grilled chicken.

However, the perishables would not last because his simple hotel room did not warrant a refrigerator, so he picked out two packages of beef jerky for protein, a large bag of baked potato chips, two bottles of orange juice, a singular candy bar for immediate carbohydrates and glucose, and finally a jumbo-sized water bottle because he did not trust the tap water in Canton. He vaguely remembered something about a human medicine called ‘aspirin’ that could lower fevers, and he took the time to buy this too.

He wasn’t about to squander money on something as ridiculous as food from a gas station, so after casting a small glamour, the clerk believed he had paid in full and packed everything into a large plastic bag before bidding him a cheerful, if not somewhat hesitant, ‘good night.’

Mikhail found it rather humiliating, toting a plastic bag full of mainly junk food around like a common human, but for Sophie’s sake—and thereby his life’s—he had no choice. The one thing he refused to do was walk down the street with it, however, and took to the rooftops as usual. Even if he was forced into the role of caretaker for a weak mortal girl, he still had his dignity.

When he was back in his room, the dim blue light of early morning was peeking mutely through the small, unavoidable gaps where the curtains joined. His first order to business was to wake her and make her eat the perishables. He would force it down her throat without hesitation if she resisted.

Her opinion mattered even less now that she was so weak she wouldn’t be able to lift a single, harmless finger against him, although it might be amusing if she tried to resist him, in a vaguely annoying sort of way. Sitting down on the edge of the bed by her feet, he found his eyes wandering to her soft pink lips. They were parted tantalizingly as she breathed quietly through her mouth and he fought the sudden, unbidden, but not exactly objectionable urge to kiss her so hard she was forced to awaken. In the end, he settled for a more conventional method.

“Sophie,” he said, louder than his usual tone, and accentuated his words with a rough shake. It was absolutely shameful acting like a nursemaid for a human.

She stirred, and upon the second attempt her eyes slowly fluttered open. Apparently, despite her sickly pallor, she had regained more strength than he’d realized. She screamed upon seeing him and he immediately covered her mouth, glowering at her threateningly until the cry died down and left behind only a fearful expression. When he was certain she’d stay quiet, he removed his hand.

“Wh-why did you-” she immediately tried to stammer.

“You need to eat,” he interrupted her brusquely. “Sit up.” If she could scream that loud, she could certainly sit up on her own.

After a few attempts to restore motion to her abused shoulder muscles and a good deal of pitiful whimpers, she at last pulled herself into a stiff sitting position. Her eyes moved from her hands to him, her expression speaking of muted terror, but he ignored it and handed her the pasta salad, fruits, vegetables, and candy bar.

“Take this first.”

Sophie obediently took the aspirin he handed her, not willing to fight right then. After that, she opened the pasta bowl with trembling hands, detaching the prepackaged fork from the lid and unwrapping it before she tentatively began to eat. After the first few bites she seemed to realize how hungry she was because she chewed much more quickly, practically inhaling the food. He stood from the bed and headed towards the bathroom to change, but for fear of her vomiting from eating too quickly, he commented over his shoulder, “Slow down. You’ll make yourself sick.” She didn’t look in his direction but nodded to acknowledge him, visibly making an effort to chew more slowly.

He disappeared into the bathroom.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie has questions, but not a lot of answers.

By the time Sophie had eaten all she could, having finished off the pasta salad, fruits, most of the vegetables, and a few bites of the candy bar, Mikhail still hadn’t left the bathroom.

In all honesty, she was relieved to be alone.

At one point, she’d glanced down at herself and it clicked in her mind that he’d redressed her, although in different clothing, before stealing her unconscious body from her home. It logically made sense, but she found it hard to imagine him doing something so seemingly thoughtful, particularly because of why she hadn’t had clothes on in the first place.

Her cheeks turned bright red in shame at the mere mentioning of the memory, even in the sanctuary of her mind, but she ignored as her insides twisted in disgust and forced her thoughts to current, more pressing matters. If she thought about it all, she might actually vomit up the food she so desperately needed.

While she had no interest in questioning him about why he’d tied her up because it was fairly obvious that he’d gone out and had needed to ensure her status as his prisoner before leaving, she _was_ curious as to why she was his prisoner in the first place. No matter how horrifying the reason might be, she decided she needed to know what had changed. More importantly, how much did this change affect how long she had to live?

Then the shower turned on and Sophie wasn’t sure if she was relieved or made that much more nervous. She was uncertain as to whether her need for information was allowing her to use this time to muster up all the courage she had in her or if his prolonged absence was just exacerbating her already deep-seated fear of him.

His violence towards her that morning when she’d almost exposed him to sunlight had crossed some internal boundary she hadn’t known she had had. Intuitively, she supposed, their interactions so far had been based more on Mikhail threatening her rather than him actually making good on those threats. Even though he’d done _those things_ to her against her will, she had never gotten the feeling the actions were borne from spitefulness or meant to be some kind of demented punishment for an imagined slight. He had said he was attracted to her, and because he somehow believed that because he hadn’t killed her she owed him her life, perhaps he thought he was entitled to it or something. Even though it made her sick to her stomach to try, she could somewhat understand how he might come to that conclusion no matter how completely wrong he was.

But the kidnapping and her near-attempt on his life had changed their dynamic irrevocably, even if he hadn’t seemed angry at her anymore in their short interaction before he had secluded himself in the bathroom. Seeing the sheer, very real insanity in his eyes and the way he’d maliciously hurt her to demonstrate his anger had crossed the previously-mentioned internal boundary—shattered it, even. She had known logically he could hurt her and her friends the entire time but even then, Kenneth and Dean had unknowingly been in the same room as him and he hadn’t done anything to harm them. Oh, he had made it clear he would next time, but she never had to truly think about a next time if she promised herself she would follow his rules. She had told Ashley about his existence and he had never hurt her, to her knowledge. It was this trend, never leading to actual retribution, that had obviously instilled a sick sense of false security in her.

That morning, he had made good on his word, however relatively benign the punishment had been in comparison to what he could have done if really he wanted to hurt her. That twisted security she had felt was now shattered; she had proof by her own experience that he truly could hurt anyone he wanted.

And even if she hadn’t experienced it for herself, that maddened look in his eyes when he’d glared at her told her that he absolutely was capable of harming another person without remorse.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opened and Sophie flinched. Mikhail came out wearing a different outfit than before—tight black jeans and a form-fitting black long-sleeved V-neck. His messy black hair was dripping wet, little droplets of water streaking down his pale skin. Against her will she noticed his corded, lean biceps and forearms and the way the shirt fit him so snugly that his pectoral muscles and abs were almost outlined.

At the blatant display of his strength and the reminder of the terrible things he could do with it, Sophie quickly turned away and swallowed with some difficulty. In the end, it seemed that waiting for him to come out so she could question him had only built up her fear to impossible levels. She would be lucky if she could get out a sentence without tripping over her words so much she didn’t make any sense.

She felt his eyes on her. Even though he’d been throwing his dirty clothes carelessly on the ground by the chest of drawers, he had obviously noticed her involuntary inspection of his body. Not daring to look in his direction lest she see a smug look on his face—or worse, hunger in his eyes—she fixated her eyes on the clothing he dropped. All the while, she was very aware of him reclining on the bed beside her. She stiffened at his proximity, but when he made no move to touch her or even speak to her, she relaxed minutely.

Then her eyes actually focused on the discarded clothing. They were ripped in places that they hadn’t been before and although slight, they were visibly darkened in some places, the fabric appearing stiffer in the darker patches.

Curious, she studied them more carefully. Even at the distance, if she looked hard enough she could see a barely noticeable reddish tint to the stains.

“Is that _blood?_ ” she asked shrilly, speaking before she could stop herself.

“Not mine,” he replied coolly, completely blasé. Sophie began to tremble in fear. The clothing was stiffer with dried blood than it was its own soft fabric.

She was pretty sure she didn’t want to know, but she asked, “Who did you…”

“One hundred, maybe one hundred and twenty. I wasn’t counting.” If Mikhail had any opinion on the matter, if he felt anything at all about what he’d done, it wasn’t forthcoming in his tone. He wasn’t looking at her either, only staring straight ahead expressionlessly. She was pretty sure the truth was that he didn’t care at all and he didn’t feel a thing.

Sophie was stunned, unable to speak in horror. Her question had been about who he had _hurt_ , but apparently, he hadn’t just hurt a single person. It had been many people, and the way he had worded it meant that he had killed them. Someone like Mikhail didn’t just injure one hundred-something people.

There was a long period in which Sophie hyperventilated uncontrollably, realizing that the vampire who had claimed her life, whose touches she had responded to even unwillingly, who was laying on the bed next to her not even three feet away her, had left her tied up and gagged in his hotel room in order to slaughter over one hundred people.

Probably innocents. How was that even possible? She was feeling lightheaded and her breaths came in sharp and shallow.

As if reading her mind, Mikhail said irritably, “They were convicted felons. Calm down.”

If he thought telling her that was going to make her feel any better, he was wrong. Perhaps if he had dropped any hints that there had been an actual struggle, some kind of retaliation, she might be able to calm down just a bit. But she had seen his body earlier; there hadn’t been so much as a scratch on him and the way he had said none of the blood on his clothing was his had been completely blunt and honest. Felons or not, it had clearly been nothing less than a massacre.

Despite that she was physically incapable of doing as he’d commanded, Sophie attempted to slow her breathing. When she’d caught her breath, she whispered, “ _Why?_ ”

Mikhail finally turned to her. Surprisingly, his eyes weren’t cold or smug. Instead, they were something of a mixture between exasperation and amusement. “If you’re going to interrogate me, ask questions you actually want to know the answers to.”

Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, Sophie spoke a little louder. “I actually do want to know why that many people deserved to die,” she insisted, sounding immensely more confident than she really felt. Maybe it was some kind of vehement denial making her tone sound so strong.

Mikhail snorted softly in derision at her persistence. “I was having a bad day.”

Her jaw dropped in equal parts horror, fury, and incredulity. However, she would not admit that he was right and that she obviously hadn’t wanted to know the answer. Strangely enough though, at that moment she was too disgusted with him to be afraid. “You killed over one hundred because you were having a bad day? What kind of bastard-”

He cocked a brow at her and noticing the gesture interrupted her, daring her continue her rant. Knowing that it was a battle she would lose and also very aware that apparently, he’d spent the entirety of that day—night, really—murdering indiscriminately, she stopped. Angering him was at the bottom of the list of things she wanted to do.

Biting her lip to stop herself from going on, she decided to ask a more relevant question. “What…happens to me if you have a bad day?”

Now he was looking at her, seeming to actually be interested in the conversation then. “Nothing, if you behave.”

She forced the words out before she could lose her random burst of courage. “Why did you take me from my home? Why am I here?”

To her surprise, he fully turned to her, now laying on his side with his head propped up on his hand. He regarded her with an unidentifiable expression and although she didn’t know exactly what it meant, she found herself nervously shifting away from him. Whatever that look was, it warranted some distance. “Things have changed,” he said slowly.

“And these…things…have something do with me?” Sophie asked uncertainly. She scooted away a few more inches, only stopping when she reached the edge of the bed.

He watched her move away from him with amusement before responding. “Only you.”

A pit formed in her stomach, but she forged on. If whatever had caused him to kidnap her only concerned her, she clearly needed to know what it was. “What, uh, changed?” She cleared her throat nervously.

“Again, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” He started to turn away again, interest suddenly gone.

Bristling at his blatant disregard to a question that there was _no way_ she didn’t want the answer to, Sophie bristled. “Even if I don’t _want_ the answer to it, I think I deserve to know the reason I’ve been kidnapped!”

In the blink of an eye he was crouching in front of her, his face leaning in so close their noses almost touched. She would have fallen off the bed in her fright had he not grabbed the back of her neck, saving her from an ungraceful tumble but also anchoring her much too close to him.

“You only deserve the answers I decide to give you,” he told her harshly. She flinched back, but he kept her from moving away from him with his strong grip. “And you haven’t been kidnapped. From now on, your home is by my side, wherever I decide to go.”

“No!” she shrieked angrily, her fear making shove against him and not care if she hurt herself falling off the tall bed. “No, you can’t do that to me, I won’t-”

“I can do whatever I want with you,” he hissed, red eyes narrowing dangerously. “You are mine.”

She pushed at him harder, trying to disengage his hand from around the back of her neck by twisting and turning her head rapidly, even though it made her immeasurably dizzy. “I never agreed to-”

Her anger flared when he cut her off yet again. “You never had a choice in the matter.”

She glared at him hotly, about to argue further and try to actually get a full sentence in, when she realized he wasn’t making eye contact anymore. His gaze had strayed to her lips and heaving chest.

Panicking, she changed tune completely and cried, “No, don’t-”

Before she could get another word out, he had yanked her into him and his lips were crushing hers.

She attempted to scream. They were in a hotel room; surely _someone_ would hear her! He’d gone to all the trouble of tying her up earlier-

Mikhail took advantage of her parted lips and forced his tongue into her mouth. She choked at the intrusion and began to thrash desperately, but he rectified her behavior quickly when he dug his claws painfully into the thin, sensitive skin of her neck. However, just as soon as he’d deepened the kiss, he was pulling away, although he still didn’t allow her to fall off the bed. She closed her teary eyes in relief when he released her once she was fully on the bed again.

“Too weak,” he said thoughtfully, and while it was she he was obviously referring to, the comment didn’t seem to be aimed at her. Almost comically, he slumped down onto the bed and closed his eyes. “Go to bed.”

Too overwhelmed with gratitude towards whatever being had blessed her with a reprieve from Mikhail’s unwanted amorous advances, Sophie did not argue and tell him she was not tired. If he was looking for some kind of justification to go on, insisting that she could stay awake longer would give him that.

Although, now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, the way her heart was pounding in her chest and the world was still vaguely spinning, she thought that regardless of whether or not she was tired, it would be best to rest as much as possible.

Noting that Mikhail had opted to sleep above the covers, she tugged the blanket down as much as she could with his weight on the bed and then shimmied underneath. It was warmer this way and that was nice because she was only wearing shorts and a thin, baggy t-shirt. When dressing her, he had clearly not gone for practicality, or comfort, or really anything. She found it was perfectly safe to assume Mikhail had grabbed the nearest semblance of an outfit and put it on her as fast as he could get it over with.

Sophie didn’t fall asleep for a while despite her body calling for rest, but she relished the warmth of being tucked snugly under the covers, no matter how starchy they were. At the same time, she tried her very best to keep her mind blank because if she let it wander, she would be reminded of the distressing, completely unacceptable news her captor had given her.

_‘Your home is by my side. You never had a choice. I can do whatever I want with you. You are mine.’_

She clenched her eyes shut tightly as the words replayed like a terrifying scene from a horror movie over and over again in her mind. With frightfully intense regret, Sophie realized that she should have risked him killing her, possibly calling his bluff. She should have opened those damned curtains.

Mikhail had not been playful when he had told her the life-changing news. His tone had been vehement and deadly serious. He truly meant every word. He wouldn’t tell her why he was doing this to her, but he was going to subject her to it all the same.

Suddenly, a hot tear burned a trail down her face. She stifled the sob that threatened to come afterward, but that only seemed to force out a second and third tear until they were gushing.

She refused to make a sound because she didn’t want that bastard to know he had this power over her, the ability to make her cry and her heart ache so terribly the tears poured unceasingly. She was utterly silent—he had no idea how much pain she was in and if she was really going to be stuck with him for as long as he decided he wanted her, she didn’t want to show him weakness. His words had had a certain finality to them; he wasn’t intending on letting her go, not in the foreseeable future and possibly not at all.

If that was the case, maybe dying wasn’t such a bad alternative to being a veritable slave in every way for the rest of her miserable life.

She was never going to see her friends again. The tears poured faster.

She thought of Kenneth and Dean, and wondered if any of them had come to check on her yet after not answering their texts or calls for at least twenty-four hours. While she hoped they would launch a successful search party and rescue her, she also remembered that her ripped clothes were still scattered around her couch. When she was found, she didn’t want them knowing that she had been violated in that way. Tears, hotter and faster, streamed down her cheeks.

And Ashley. Ashley might be able to do something too, maybe something even more plausibly helpful than her other friends because she knew vampires existed and she knew of the situation. When she didn’t show up for work without calling in sick or swapping shifts with someone, Ashley had to know something had happened.

But she had no idea when to expect that. What was today? Sunday or Monday? Or could it still be Saturday? Surely not Tuesday. It was frustrating that she wasn’t sure anymore, not with her erratic sleep schedule and Mikhail’s reversed days and nights. Angrily, she realized that she would soon call days nights and nights days just like he did.

The tears were so hot now that they were burning her skin. Her only respite, as she bit her lip to gain some control over how her chest was spasming with her repressed sobs, was that Mikhail was asleep and he had no idea that he was able to hurt her this much. Her tears were now hers and hers alone. She only ever wanted him to see her anger and rage, and yet a part of her told her that tears would follow whether it was anger or sadness that he was causing her. As her heart ached and her lungs heaved and her cheeks burned from her tears, Sophie could only hope that she would receive the mercy of a peaceful, dreamless sleep very soon. She didn’t even realize it when it did.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rules of the game.

One thing Sophie learned during her time trapped in Mikhail’s hotel room, stuck in bed because he wouldn’t allow her to do anything else, was that being a captive was incredibly boring.

By what she estimated was day five after being kidnapped, she had more or less adjusted to Mikhail’s nocturnal schedule. She slept during the days and lay awake at night, forcing her mind to stay completely blank because she refused to think about her situation. Unfortunately, she didn’t always succeed as well as she would hope to. During those times, she spent most of it tightly bound and loosely gagged. For all his insistence at keeping her in the hotel room against her will to ‘be by his side,’ Mikhail wasn’t there all that often.

On top of never being around except when he had to avoid the sun, she found Mikhail wasn’t exactly a talkative character even when he was present. She could have easily predicted that because with the exception of him taking her to dinner that one Thursday night, he never really said anything he didn’t absolutely have to unless the conversation was initiated.

Unfortunately for her boredom, Sophie had no interest in talking to him of her own accord.

It had occurred to her once to ask for a book or at least something to do in bed when he was gone and she wasn’t petrified by his presence, but she soon after realized that there was no way to read a book or do a crossword puzzle when her hands were tied behind her back. Because he was always awake before she was, she often woke up in a very uncomfortable position on her stomach, already restrained, and he was gone. She never asked what he went out to do every night; she already had a rough idea since he hadn’t fed on her since before she’d been kidnapped and she had learned her lesson after seeing his torn, bloody clothes. She wasn’t going to ask a question she didn’t want the answer to.

That evening—or morning, really, since the sun was just peeking through the curtains dimly—when Mikhail came into the hotel room and went through the routine of untying her and putting the restraints on his nightstand, he actually spoke to her of his own volition.

“They’ve organized a search party for you,” he said neutrally as he laid down on the bed, his arms folded behind his head. His eyes were closed and he looked totally relaxed, but Sophie didn’t let his calmness about the situation affect her.

She felt a spurt of hope and joy all at once. Her friends were going to find her! She was going to be free of him forever and they would save her and he would be gone, gone, gone; someone would tie him up and leave him out in the sun and-

“We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Everything came screeching to a halt and she stared at him blankly. “Leaving…Canton?” She knew what he meant, but she didn’t want him to _mean_ what he’d meant.

“Yes. We’ll be headed to Ornelle.”

Sophie swallowed her protest in order to get more answers. “Why Ornelle?”

“I have a house there.”

His responses left much to be desired, but Sophie knew by now that he preferred to keep his cards close to his chest. From his short, single-sentence answers she knew she wouldn’t get anything more out of him, but anger was bubbling up within her at the fact that they were going so far away from her home and that she was being forced to do something she’d never had the inclination to do.

“So I’m just supposed to disappear forever and let my friends worry? I’m supposed to let them think I’ve been killed or something?” she demanded angrily. Even though she was afraid of him, carefully concealing that fact made her feel like she had somewhat equal footing. She wasn’t fooling anybody, but it was necessary for her sanity.

“Your death will be implied.” Her breath caught in her throat, wondering if that was a nice way of saying she was going to die soon.

She voiced this and he sighed in exasperation.

“Don’t be dull. I have no intentions of killing you.”

She snapped, voicing the question that he hadn’t given a decent answer to yet. “Then why are you doing this?”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, making eye contact with her for the first time since he’d come back.

“It suits me.” It was a simple response that only infuriated her further, but out of self-preservation she tried to keep her tone relatively even.

“You’re kidnapping a random girl and going to all the time to take her to Ornelle, to your home, just because it suits you _?_ ”

He muttered something inaudibly, but there was a clear tone of exasperation.

“What?”

Mikhail sat up and looked directly at her and Sophie found that she couldn’t maintain eye contact when he was so frighteningly irritated. “When we were at the restaurant and you asked what it was like to be a vampire, what did I tell you?”

Thankfully, he didn’t sound as irritated as he looked, but Sophie couldn’t respond.

It didn’t seem like he really expected her to when he went on, “Let me remind you: I can do _whatever_ I want, _whenever_ I want. If I want to take you with me to Ornelle, I have every right to.”

In her indignation, she glared at him. “ _Right?_ What right do you have to ruining my life?”

Mikhail rolled his eyes at her question and didn’t deign it worthy of an answer, laying back and closing his eyes with finality. “Go to sleep.”

“No!” she snapped, turning away from him gesturing wildly. “All I do is sit in bed and sleep! I’m not tired and I’m not sick anymore! There must be something else do to that won’t drive me crazy with boredom! A book! TV! Something to-”

She paused in her rant when she felt him looking at her intently. Dropping her hands to cross them over her chest protectively, she looked at him questioningly.

“What?” she asked, hiding her fear with the coldness in her tone. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her.

“I suppose you _are_ healthy again,” he murmured as he sat up. When his eyes met hers, she knew what was going to happen. He was hungry.

“N-no, not that healthy!” she replied, crawling backwards away from him and ready to make a run for it.

“I think you are,” he said with a lustful smirk. “It has been a while, after all. And today’s meal wasn’t all that satisfying…”

In a rather daring move of defiance given her situation, Sophie screamed at the top of her lungs and shot off the bed, making a mad dash for the door. She’d noticed he never bolted it, so she might have a chance to escape-

The thought was quickly rectified when she was violently slammed into the nearest wall after a mere five steps. Winded from the impact, all the air in her lungs left her and her cry for help was cut short. Before she could catch her breath to scream again, his hand was forcefully clamped over her lips.

Looming over her, Mikhail gave her a threatening glare. “I thought you’d started understanding why I take the time to go so far as to _gag_ you and learned from it,” he said lowly, disapprovingly. “You might have even started earning some freedom, but clearly you’re not catching on.”

The look in his eyes, although terrifying, was almost mesmerizing in its intensity and despite her fear she could not look away.

“Let me make a few things clear, since you obviously need your situation spelled out for you,” he went on, his voice a dangerous whisper. “I have been _very_ lenient with you from day one: you should not be alive right now and whether you live or die is solely at my discretion, so if you want to stay alive you should start making it a point to be worth my time.”

The fear was starting to dissipate. Her life was already beginning to lose its value. If this was going to be how she lived, the threat of death was quickly turning into an out for a terrible predicament.

He seemed to know this. “And I realize that if you become unhappy enough, death may not seem so terrible anymore. What you don’t seem to understand is that I don’t have to kill _you._ Leaving Canton may make your friends less accessible, but you do know there are plenty of people in the world who can suffer terribly because of your misbehavior?”

Her eyes widened disbelievingly.

“Did you know there are vampires who only feed on children?” he hissed. “And I don’t mean teenagers. I’m talking about five and six years old, even younger. Infants, even. Their blood is very pure, you know, and it’s not exactly an acquired taste. Most consider it a delicacy, but even vampires have morals and children that young are usually ignored. If you continued to disobey me after we leave Canton, I will gladly indulge in that delicacy _every single time_ you defy me _._ ”

Sophie felt like she was going to vomit. He was absolutely demented and she didn’t doubt he would follow through on his threats. Hopelessness crushed her heart like an iron weight.

He obviously sensed the shift within her. “Of course, that can be avoided and you won’t have the blood of children on your hands. There are three simple rules to follow and they are not difficult to manage. One: you will not try to escape.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat with great difficulty and helpless tears gathered in her eyes.

“Two: You will not harm yourself in any way.”

The tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Three: You will _always_ obey me without question.”

Her choked sob was muffled by his hand.

“I understand you are not perfect, but these rules are simple and irrefutable. Is defying me unsuccessfully—because you will always fail—worth a child’s life? That is the question you need to ask yourself.”

She was crying helplessly by now, sagging into the wall in defeat.

“I think you are beginning to understand now.”

Then, suddenly, he was cocking his ear towards the door, his eyes narrowing. Sophie didn’t care. She felt tired, heavy, _weak_.

When he looked back at her, however, he seemed strangely content.

“You’ve attracted some attention.”

It was then that she heard voices, muffled but discernable.

 _“-always thought there was something fishy going on,”_ came an unfamiliar male voice. _“Too many screams and thumps coming from this room. Night shift says the guy never leaves it except at night, either.”_

 _“Don’t worry, Mr. Thurman. CPD will take care of it.”_ It was the stern voice of an older woman.

Hope and terror filled Sophie simultaneously. Could they actually help her or would Mikhail just kill them?

Suddenly, he was shoving her into the closet.

“One breath too loud,” he told her quietly, “and it’ll be a six-year-old. Should you fail that but I’m not caused too much trouble, it will be two of them. And if I’m caused too much trouble…”

The trailed-off threat had her nodding fervently.

He closed the closet door just as there was a knock on the door. Listening keenly and pressing her ear up against the wall, she heard him answer the door.

“Hello, Mr. Colson,” came the voice of the woman. “My name is Theresa Davis and I’m with the Canton Police Department. The owner here says that there have been some suspicious noises reported to be coming from your room.”

“Pardon my rudeness, but I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about,” Mikhail replied politely. The way he spoke was so different from normal. He sounded easy-mannered and gentle.

“I’ve gotten multiple complaints from the room next to you and beneath you the past few days,” said the man, who Sophie assumed was the manager of the hotel. “I don’t know how you can claim to not have heard anything.”

“Please, Mr. Thurman, let me do my job,” Theresa said firmly. “Mr. Colson, would you mind if I took a look around? It’ll only be moment and if there’s nothing to hide you should have no objections.” There was warning in her voice.

“Of course not, come in.”

There was a long silence and nobody seemed to move.

Then, “Mr. Thurman, I can handle this. You’re dismissed.”

She heard footsteps retreating quickly.

When Mikhail spoke next, it was an amused drawl in his normal tone of voice. “CPD has been upping their security, hm?”

“After the massacre in MacPherson, everyone’s wearing the charms. A hunter guild tipped us off,” Theresa said coldly. “I wouldn’t suppose you know something about that?”

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you just come in for a moment.”

Sophie began trembling at the sudden sadistic glee in Mikhail’s voice. Had Mikhail tried to use a glamour and failed because Theresa was wearing one of the pendants Ashley had shown her?

“Not until I have you in cuffs,” Theresa said. “You’re under arrest, Mr. Colson—if that’s even your real name. Vampires go to such extents to hide their identities these days that nobody knows who they really are, right?”

Sophie thought now would be a great time to scream, but the possibility of what could happen if things went wrong kept her holding her breath.

“I assume all your restraints are enchanted now?” Mikhail replied casually, ignoring her accusation. “You can’t possibly think me that much of a fool.”

“And you can’t possibly think that killing a cop wearing a charm will go well for you,” Theresa retorted acidly. “Hunters will-”

Her words were cut off as she gurgled suddenly, as though being strangled.

“Let them come. A decent challenge will be worth my time.” The voice was soft, dangerous, and almost inaudible through the wall. Then there was a sickening snap and then the ragged sound of a body being dragged into the room.

Mikhail opened the closet door soon after and Sophie was scrambling to her feet fearfully. “I didn’t do any-”

With the speed of a viper he reached for her neck, pinched a nerve hard, and the world went black.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie is so, so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Wizpirio for pointing out the repeat chapter!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

It had been somewhat exasperating and wholly amusing to see Officer Theresa Davis attempt to stand up to him without fear and then watch terrified expression as he fatally snapped her neck. However, even though his discovery and her death were something of an inconvenience, Mikhail had no problem relocating to an apartment building three blocks away. He’d left all his unimportant affects in the motel, namely his spare clothing. He killed the old man who lived in the apartment as well as his nurse, then using the place to hide out until the sun set. He was thankful he’d come back to the hotel earlier than usual after his outing because otherwise it would have been much more difficult to navigate to safer territory. The sun was still his one true weakness.

Carrying Sophie along that way was something of a hindrance, but since it was still so early in the morning for humans, there were very few of them out and about to witness Sophie’s unconscious form slung over his shoulder. It was just past six in the morning when he was finally settled into the apartment, all the blinds closed tightly and the two bodies stashed in the old man’s closet.

Although tired enough to fall asleep the moment he laid down next to Sophie on the small double bed, Mikhail needed to consider his options.

In a few hours, he would have hunters scouring the streets for him. Despite the tentative truce between vampires and the human governments, the death of a police officer usually caused trouble. It was the reason he’d chosen an apartment rather than the motel a few blocks further away from the center of the city. Hunters could be intelligent, but even if they considered the possibility that he might steal someone else’s residence, by the time they searched the specific apartment building he was in and found the two bodies, he would be long gone.

The question was, at this point, did he want to go to his personal home in Ornelle or should he just go back to headquarters in Yalesburg? He only had two weeks left of his vacation before he was supposed to return anyway and he was eager to go back to work. Contrarily, he felt Sophie still needed to adjust to her new life with him, and of course, his sire would never allow him to bring her to the mansion that was his coven’s main office.

That would be a problem. At this critical point in time when Sophie had to learn a new way of living, it would be unwise to leave her to her own devices for any real length of time. Missions could involve subterfuge, reconnaissance, and occasionally building temporary relationships with those involved on top of the actual job and that meant that some could last for a while. He didn’t think he could leave Sophie alone for more than a few days in the current state of affairs.

It was decided, then, that he would bide his time in Ornelle for as long as he could before his return. Mikhail highly doubted that two extra weeks in his presence would do much to change things between them to a satisfactory degree, but they also bought him time with how to deal with his sire. It occurred to him to check in with the older vampire and let him know the situation. However, it was an issue he was not ready to deal with yet.

In the end, he fell asleep around 9am and although he wouldn’t get as much sleep as he would have liked, it was better than nothing.

Mikhail woke an hour before the sun set when he felt Sophie stirring beside him. Her breathing was slightly uneven as she fully regained consciousness and realized they were not in the hotel room. She sat up and got off the bed, groaning as she moved her sore body.

When he heard her walking away, he sat up abruptly and she yelped, her eyes darting to his frightfully. “What are you doing?” he asked calmly. He was hoping that she hadn’t _really_ thought she could try to run while he slept, especially after he’d gone to all the trouble to explain the consequences of her actions. He had not lied; his threat was necessary to ensure her cooperation and he would go to whatever lengths he had to in order to beat it into her mind.

“Bathroom,” she said quietly as explanation and when he noticed how she was tightly clenching her thighs together as she walked, he found that it was safe to assume that she was telling the truth. Waving her on, he laid down again but did not close his eyes, clasping his hands over his chest and listening keenly.

After a few moments, Sophie came upon the bathroom across the hall and it turned out that she hadn’t been lying. She took a while, but did eventually return without attempting to further explore apartment. She sat down on the bed cross-legged, facing away from him and showing no intention of lying down again.

After a long moment, she asked quietly, “Where are we?”

“Somewhere we won’t be found,” he replied vaguely. “We leave for Ornelle as soon as the sun sets.”

She sighed softly and when she spoke again, she sounded defeated. “How long will it take to get there?”

“By train it should take about five hours.”

She turned to him. “I’m assuming when I wake up next we’ll already be there?” Her words could have been construed as snarky, but she just seemed weary.

He found himself considering the options. Smuggling an unconscious body aboard a train certainly wasn’t outside of his capabilities, but it would be something of an inconvenience. Since he’d reiterated the rules she had to follow and outlined the consequences for defiance, she seemed to have had a change of demeanor. This might be a good way to test her understanding.

“If you vow to behave, I may allow an exception.”

She sighed and slumped forward, cradling her face in her hands. After a few minutes, she spoke again. “I’d like that. My neck really hurts.”

Mikhail couldn’t help the way the edges of his lips quirked upward at her statement. He supposed he hadn’t been all that gentle when he’d knocked her out earlier, but there hadn’t been time to waste. Glancing at her from the corner of his eyes, he noticed her rubbing the small but dark bruise at the junction of her neck and right shoulder.

“I need new clothes,” she said suddenly. “And I need to take a shower. Really bad.”

A quick look at her clothes told him that despite the inconvenience it would create, she was right. He didn’t mind her smell all that much because it was laced with the delicious scent of her blood, but she hadn’t showered in a few days because he’d only allowed it once during her time in the hotel room. Smell notwithstanding, her hair was greasy and mussed and she looked worse for wear. Her clothes weren’t in a much better state, rumpled and baggy as they were. They also had dried sweat stains from being worn for almost a week straight, which was particularly unattractive but also acknowledged as a natural human function. Even if he could ignore her dirtiness, her clothing wasn’t appropriate for travel. She would freeze where they were going, even if it was only autumn right now. Ornelle was to the far north and was typically very cold year-round.

He recalled that the live-in nurse who he’d killed, while much older than Sophie, wore her general size of clothing. It would be a little baggy, but it would be enough to make her presentable while they bought her a new wardrobe. They couldn’t return to her home to get more clothing and he knew she couldn’t live in the same outfit for next month. The nurse’s clothes had been dark, so the little bit of blood that had spilled on them shouldn’t be too noticeable.

“Go shower,” Mikhail told her. “There will be clothing waiting for you when you’re done. You’re going to be on your best behavior from this point on, do you understand?”

She nodded compliantly, already getting off the bed to head towards the bathroom once more.

There was an outlet shopping mall he’d noticed nearby upon returning from MacPherson and it would be perfect for Sophie’s needs. It would stay open late enough for them to get her four or five outfits and then a cab could take them to the train station.

By the time Sophie was done bathing and had changed into the dead nurse’s clothing—she had been about to question him when a single look had told her that she didn’t want to know—the sun was almost out of the sky. He let her have a quick meal using the previous inhabitant’s food and then they left to buy her clothing.

She was silent the entire time and completely obedient, not once arguing with him. It was refreshing that she’d finally learned her place and it made life much more enjoyable.

However, her demeanor changed completely upon entering the department store he had decided would suit her needs. She seemed to lighten up, her mood lifting despite the situation. He watched with amusement as she loaded up with clothing and then scurried off the try them on. She acted like he wasn’t even there most of the time, but she was clearly aware of his presence; when a young woman approached them to ask if they needed any help, Sophie had given him a surreptitious glance and told her that they were fine on their own. The way she spoke was totally normal and didn’t rouse even the slightest amount of suspicion. He found that he was proud of her ability to blend in at his command.

An hour and a half later they had bought a suitcase, put the purchases within, and after paying for everything in cash, they were on their way to hail a cab. Thirty minutes after leaving the department store, he had purchased their train tickets and used a glamour to disguise the fact that Sophie didn’t have an ID.

As they boarded the train, Sophie kept her head down, wearing a hat to disguise her hair since there was always the chance that people were on the lookout for her. Mikhail found that the first part of his evening could pass for enjoyable. Spending time with Sophie wasn’t a terrible experience when she wasn’t fighting him every step of the way.

He had secured them their own booth to ensure privacy and as the train was leaving the station, he noticed that Sophie was staring out the window quietly. Her body language told him that she had no intention of conversing with him to pass the time and although it didn’t surprise him, he found he wouldn’t have minded a repeat of their experience at Shimon’s Bistro. In the end, the trip was boring and quiet because Sophie spent the entire time ignoring him.

It didn’t matter. He was content just watching her—knowing that she was his now, forever, brought a sense of contentment that he was certain was influenced by his instincts. It was these instincts that had gotten them into this mess in the first place, but it no longer really bothered him.

This beautiful young woman, so vibrant and full of life despite her situation, was _his_. There was nothing to complain about.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikhail takes what he's desired for so long.

Sophie wasn’t sure what she’d expected when Mikhail said “home,” but it wasn’t this.

During the time on the train, she’d wondered about what it might look like. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it was some decrepit place in the slums of Ornelle, covered in cobwebs and hardly used. After all, in the ghetto most people wouldn’t be too alarmed by screams in the middle of the night or sounds of violence. She’d toyed with the idea of a large gothic castle in an old, abandoned part of the city, too, but found that even less appealing for some reason.

What she hadn’t expected was a quaint, very normal-looking house in the middle of nowhere. The plot of land was large enough to house a full-fledged farm but was completely undeveloped except for a long, winding gravel road that led to the center of the property, probably two miles in length traversing through dense and untamed forest until reaching a clearing and the house.

The house itself was a modest affair, only a single story with red brick, navy blue trim and dark brown roofing. It looked well-maintained except for the unkempt hedges and the long grass that didn’t look like it had been mown in months. The door was painted a matching navy blue, similar to the shutters. It was hard to make out in the dim morning light—the sun was very close to rising or she wouldn’t have had any way to make out the details —but she noticed that all the shutters were closed and did not allow any light to enter the house.

Mikhail used a glamour to pay the taxi fare and then led her to the front door. He didn’t use a key even though there was a keyhole. He simply waved his hand over the knob, the lock clicked and the door opened inwards. She suspected the work of some kind of glamour, but didn’t question it for the sake of avoiding conversation.

It was entirely dark in the house, so after stepping over the threshold and leaning her recently-purchased suitcase up against the nearest wall, Sophie waited for Mikhail to turn on a light. He returned after a thorough inspection of the interior—without illuminating the place, she noticed with vague irritation—and flicked the light switch, motioning for her to enter.

She closed the door behind her and the click had a finality that sent shivers down her spine. She was in a vampire’s home as a vampire’s captive. She had no power, no control over her life for who knew how long. A deep-seated hopelessness made her limbs feel so, _so_ heavy.

“Come,” Mikhail said after she stood in the foyer, unmoving, for a long while. His red eyes were watching her closely, but Sophie didn’t feel there was anything all that interesting to see. She was trapped now, completely defeated. She was stuck with him until he had a change of heart, but given that she now knew where his home was and knew the secret of vampires, she doubted that his ‘change of heart’ would include anything more than him killing her. This was her life now: a vampire’s toy; his walking, talking blood bag, as Ashley had put it.

She swallowed hard, eyes scouring the cherry hardwood floors unseeingly. This was her life.

“Sophie,” he said, slightly louder with a touch of exasperation. At the sound her name coming from the lips of someone she despised, Sophie flinched and looked up, although not at him. Her eyes found the walls, which had no decoration of any sort that would make this place feel like more of a home than a house. This was nothing more than a place to hide from the sun.

This was her life from now on.

“ _Sophie_ ,” Mikhail repeated sharply and the tone of his voice finally snapped her out of her hopeless reverie.

“What?” she asked softly.

“Come with me,” he replied with irritation as he motioned for her to follow him. She nodded once before trailing behind him.

When he led her to the master bedroom where he clearly slept, Sophie stiffened but felt although she shouldn’t have really expected her own room. He stopped in the doorway and gestured for her to enter first. Feeling uncomfortable at having her back to him when he was so dangerous and she so helpless, as soon as she entered she focused on the room in order to ignore his presence.

He had already turned on the light for her benefit, so she could see that it was a large, elegant place. There was a canopy bed to her right with four tall posts. The blanket on the bed, which surprisingly looked very soft, comfortable, and possibly expensive, was a color somewhere between navy blue and black. There was a multitude of pillows, most of them small and mainly for decorative purposes. Some of them were blue and had gold trim while the others were just black.

As she slowly walked towards the bed, she took in the rest of the room. The furniture other than the bed seemed very antique, although well-maintained all the same. A large, double-door mahogany bureau was in the corner on the far side of the bed. There was a small nightstand with an ornate lamp to its left situated directly next to the bed. Mikhail made his way around the foot of the bed to lay on that side and Sophie immediately redirected her course to the much barer side of the room.

The only thing on her side of the bed was a closet which, at a glance, appeared to be a walk-in. Sophie had no idea what Mikhail needed that for since he didn’t seem like much of a person to care about clothing or fashion, but she had no intention of asking. There was also a doorway adjacent to the closet on the wall behind her that presumably led to a bathroom. Sophie wondered if it was ever even used. Did vampires use the restroom the way that humans did? She didn’t think so since she’d never seen Mikhail go to the bathroom except when to bathe.

Reluctantly, Sophie pulled the covers away from the bed so she could crawl under them. She had noticed over time that Mikhail did not bother himself with blankets and the like, but given that when he touched her he always had unnaturally cold hands she had figured that he didn’t feel temperature as a vampire. It made sense. From what little she knew, vampires were the living dead, which would explain why his skin usually felt cool and clammy. He didn’t have a heartbeat and he didn’t need to breathe; would it really be so strange that he didn’t maintain a body temperature either?

Sighing, she curled up under the covers, her back to Mikhail’s prone form in an effort to pretend he wasn’t there. Although cold from disuse, the heavy down comforter and silky sheets of his bed were probably the one thing she found she could remotely like out of everything in situation.

Mikhail hadn’t said a word to her in a while and she wasn’t going to interrupt that trend. Trying to be content with the rapidly-growing warmth of the blankets around her and doing her very best to keep the raucous thoughts in her mind that threatened to send her to tears from surfacing, Sophie clenched her eyes shut tightly and willed sleep to come quickly.

She was almost there, her brain fogged with the nearing of unconsciousness, when there was a shift beside her. The unwelcome reminder that she was not alone in this very comfortable bed had her mind stirring to life, but she forced any thoughts away.

Then there was clearly a heatless body curling into her back and she went rigid. A breath tickled her ear and she could feel Mikhail’s form encompassing her as he leaned over. “I’m hungry,” he murmured heatedly.

She wasn’t sure when this sudden mood swing had come about, but it could not be more unwanted. Sophie attempted to feign unconsciousness and did not respond, but when a strong, clawed hand began to knead her hip, she whispered faintly, “Please, no.”

The hand turned her onto her back just as he situated himself above her, tearing away the warm covers mercilessly.

“Please, no!” she exclaimed, panicking. She pushed at his chest. “I’m tired! Please!”

Mikhail responded by capturing her lips roughly and she let out terrified shriek into his mouth. He plunged his tongue inside her hungrily and ignored all further protests as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

At this point, Sophie was quite aware that there would be little she could feasibly do to deter him. It was a hopeless cause. She was his prisoner and while they were in the rural parts of Ornelle with forests all around, even though it was daytime they were probably dangerous. But he couldn’t hurt her if she was in the sunlight though, right?

And then she was quickly reminded about the last time she’d tried to escape and the threat he’d made. The very thought made her wilt.

_‘Do not try to escape. Do not harm yourself. Obey my every command.’_

Helpless tears gathered in her eyes.

He broke away from the kiss and narrowed his eyes at her. She panted, glad for the chance to catch her breath, and looked at him fearfully. Maybe he would stop?

“Do not fight.”

She let out a weak sob and, although she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, she nodded in acknowledgment of his order. Sophie closed her eyes and pretended she was anywhere else as he undressed her quickly. When her shirt was pulled from her body and the bra unclasped, her cheeks colored. She noticed he actually took the time to take her clothing off now instead of just ripping through it, something she was grateful for.

When she was stripped from her pants and underwear, her face was a bright red and she could feel the heat. He nudged her thighs apart and, in final protest, she whispered, “Please… ” She didn’t have to see his face to know his eyes were narrowing in disapproval. Biting her lip in defeat, she tried to pretend she was anywhere else.

His clawed fingers parted her lower lips and began to rub up and down teasingly, the tips of his claws sending shivers of both fear and a warped kind of anticipation through her.

Despite her unwillingness, she noticed with horror that there was the telltale tightness in her abdomen. It had come much faster than usual. Feeling her body’s receptiveness, he slipped a finger into her core.

She gasped at the unwelcome intrusion, but within moments she was consciously fighting the movement of her hips against his hand. He had already learned the workings of her body within two weeks when it had taken her until she was nineteen to bring herself to orgasm. It wasn’t inability to know her body; it was more that she’d never really given those kinds of urges much thought. Even though Mikhail had never once used her body for his own pleasure, her blood notwithstanding, he seemed very aware of how to bring someone else to climax.

His thumb rubbed circles over her clit mercilessly and despite the fact she fought it valiantly, she was jerking against him shakily. He added another finger and after upping the pace, she was spasming around him and choking on the moan that threatened to escape her lips.

Not removing his fingers, he leaned down and nuzzled her neck before purring into her ear, “You smell… _delicious_.” She tensed herself for the painful bite that was coming.

Except it didn’t come. He breathed in deeply and then abruptly pulled away. Morbidly curious, she opened her eyes to look at him guardedly.

There was a mildly thoughtful look on his face that bothered her immensely, but he came to his conclusion rather quickly. He shifted downwards on the bed and lifted her parted thighs, lowering his face before tentatively licking her core.

At the feather-light, gentle, inhumanly cool touch of his tongue, Sophie gasped indignantly. It had seemed experimental, so she hoped he would find what he was doing unfavorable and stop, but the opposite seemed to happen.

Suddenly, his mouth was attacking her with fervor. Already sensitized from the first orgasm, she was overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips and tongue against her and she arched, gripping the sheets tightly to stop herself from making even one sound of appreciation. She did _not_ want this, she did not!

A sharp fang grazed her clit and she jerked involuntarily at the painful but somehow arousing touch, a sharp, gasping moan tearing from her throat. The response was a predatory growl and the vibrations against her sent shivers down her spine.

“Please,” she begged breathlessly. “ _Stop-_ ”

He responded by licking more aggressively and every time his fangs even so much as brushed her she bucked against him despite her best efforts.

When he added the two fingers he’d been using previously, it was her undoing. No longer making the effort to stay quiet as she didn’t have the mind to, she screamed as she climaxed. The intensity had her entire body tensing and she was vaguely aware that her grip on the sheets was making her fingers ache. He received her juices greedily, continuing to lick her even after it was over and she lay there, boneless. Panting heavily but otherwise completely unmoving, Sophie waited for him to just feed on her and get it over with. She was tired and so, so ashamed and she wanted to go back to bed and pretend this had never happened.

He wasn’t moving and Sophie was too tired to care. Closing her eyes, she wondered if she would feel his bite if she was asleep. Taking a deep, relaxing breath, she decided she didn’t mind finding out.

Mikhail watched her as she lay there, knowing she wasn’t sleeping even if she wanted to be.

The taste of her arousal was exquisite, just like every other part of her. But it had also had another effect he hadn’t quite anticipated; he was so aroused it was painful and the ache begged to be sated.

From her taste, he knew she was a virgin, but he knew instinctively that was not going to be the case by the time the time he was done with her that night.

He’d slept with others over the years—he was a male and although the act of killing was just as satisfying as an orgasm any day, he’d had occasional urges specifically tailored to a woman’s body and hadn’t hesitated to swiftly rectify them. However, he’d never slept with a human and specifically, not an unwilling one.

It didn’t matter. One day she would be willing and at the moment, even if she was mentally against it, her body was certainly amenable to his intentions. She was slick and ready, both from his mouth and her own juices. It would be painful, but only momentarily and she would adjust.

He quickly unclothed himself and she didn’t even flinch at the sound of his zipper being pulled down; from her unsteady breathing it seemed she wasn’t quite asleep yet, but she was also completely unaware of what was going to happen next.

“Sophie,” he said, leaning over her and pressing his cheek against hers, “wake up.”

She stiffened immediately at his voice and he knew that despite her efforts, she had never been asleep. She might not have heard his movements, but she hadn’t reached unconsciousness.

He lifted her thighs and adjusted her against him. When she felt his naked, hardened member pressing against her, she was immediately awake and shoving at his chest frantically.

“No, wait-!”

He started easing himself into her slowly, unperturbed by her panic. She groaned in pain through gritted teeth at the action even though she was tight and wet around him, her walls pulsing and hot; he was hard pressed not to just slam into her.

“No! No! Stop, please! STOP!” She shoved at him desperately, her voice pained. She bucked and thrashed but her movements were weak after the exhausting past hour and a half. He made no move to stop her other than to press her into the bed with his weight. “NO!”

She bucked particularly violently and he’d had enough. Quickly, he ended her movements by thrusting his entire length into her. She shrieked and stilled immediately as he broke through her barrier, soon dissolving into harsh sobs and pathetic whimpers.

“Please,” she sobbed. “It hurts, please stop… ”

Even though he ached to thrust into her wildly, he curled his arm around her head and pulled her into his chest in what was probably a mockery of comfort. Her hands were fisted tightly in the rumpled fabric of the bed sheets and she trembled. He could feel her walls stretching for him, gripping him so tightly he would have broken out into a sweat if he were human.

“Shh,” he murmured, but he was unable to hold out any longer. Slowly, he began to move within her and it seemed to awaken a new panic.

“Stop,” she begged. “Stop!”

She began to push at him again and he grew tired of her fighting. Grasping her wrists and pinning them to her sides, he growled into her ear, “The children.”

She let out an anguished cry but stop struggling, breaking out into broken sobs.

Knowing that she was still hurting and given that he wasn’t particularly pleased to hear her cries of pain, he continued to move slowly. It was extremely difficult, teasing himself like this, but if he was going to rape her, he at least wouldn’t make it more painful than it had to be. He knew she didn’t want it and was entirely aware that it was rape. At the same time, he also knew that it would have happened eventually and he hadn’t been able to wait for her consent. He trusted that she would adjust to her situation.

He didn’t like it, but he’d done terrible things in his lifetime and was entirely certain that he would do continue to do worse as time went on—such was the way of things as a vampire. Immortal life tended to twist things irrevocably.

Her sobs had softened as she accepted her defeat and her body was becoming, undoubtedly against her will, more pliant to his movements. At last he allowed himself to move the way he wanted to and he could not stop the soft grunts that passed from his lips. Her body was perfectly fit for his.

The scent of her ongoing tears, however, proved to be suffocating and he knew he needed to stop them. Releasing one of her wrists—she knew better than to fight him now, the battle had been lost—he cupped her cheek and pressed his lips against hers.

She didn’t respond and he hadn’t expected her to, but she allowed him to push his tongue into her mouth without much of a fight. The kiss was slow at first, but as his pleasure grew it became rougher and more passionate. It did not go unnoticed that her eyes remained clenched shut the entire time.

When he nipped her lip with his fangs, she whimpered weakly into his mouth. The sound vaguely reminded him that she could make much more pleasing noises and he adjusted the angle of his thrusts. It did not take long for the new positioning to cause a reaction. There was another strangled whine from the back of her throat that did not speak of pain at all. Thrusting harder and pinpointing the change, he was satisfied when she tore away from his mouth to gasp and let out a moan of agonized pleasure. Tears of desperation gathered in her eyes and she was gripping the sheets tightly to hide her reactions once more.

Patiently, he continued the pace and soon she was trembling beneath him, her thighs clenching as though to grip him to her. She fought the urges with all her might, but in the end she could not stop from bucking against him.

He groaned at her submission and thrust faster. Every time she took a breath it was a gasp, each one expressing a mixture of horror at her response to him and unwanted appreciation for his attentions.

Then her inner walls were clenching him tightly as she came, spasming and almost bringing him to climax. He resisted, not inclined to finish so quickly.

By the time he released himself into her after she had orgasmed three more times, he was immeasurably hungry. The combined scents of her sweat, blood, the heavy stench of sex in the room, and the way the crimson liquid could be heard thrumming through her veins became irresistible. Even as the shudders from the impossibly satisfying orgasm still wracked his body, he pierced her neck as gently as he could in order to feed. It was uncharacteristic, but he truly disliked forcing her to do this and so tried to reduce further pain as much as he could.

The only acknowledgment of his bite was a weak whimper that was easy to ignore. Still inside of her, he drank greedily, although he did not want to weaken her as he had last time. Her blood was like liquid sugar, the cinnamon and honey flavor exploding on his taste buds. Interestingly, it was slightly different after sex than it was after foreplay—it was better.

When he finally released her neck and pulled out of her, she was unconscious. It wasn’t due to blood loss, of that he was certain. This had, after all, been a draining experience for her both physically and emotionally.

He didn’t bother to put his clothes back on. Instead, he pulled her limp body underneath the covers with him and held her to him as he drifted off. Her warm body fit perfectly against his and her soft breathing was soothing to his senses.

As he drifted off to sleep, he decided holding her to him like this was a rather enjoyable experience and was worth repeating often.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It always seems to get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update! Make sure you've read Chapter 17 first!

Sophie stirred and shifted upon slowly regaining consciousness.

The first thing she noticed was that she was touching another body intimately and the moment she realized that her back was to Mikhail’s chest and his arm was draped over her torso possessively, she panicked. Upon remembering what had happened that had led them to this position, though she would have never slept like this with him willingly anyway, tears gathered in her eyes and she began to cry quietly. Her body was sore in the worst of ways; her thighs and abdomen were throbbing uncomfortably and her neck hurt from when he’d bitten her. Even though she assumed she had slept a good while, her body still felt tired and weak.

Inevitably, her crying woke Mikhail up. She could feel him shift and start to breathe, but he made no move to release her or tell her to do anything. Content to lay there and cry, despite the fact that she was in his arms, she gave off no acknowledgment that she knew he had awoken. She ignored him as best she could, letting her heart ache terribly. At this point, she didn’t think it would ever stop aching. Too much had changed, too many horrible things had happened to her. She used to think of herself as a strong individual in her own way, but perhaps she wasn’t as strong as she had once thought she was.

At last Mikhail released her and sat up. From the way his body moved against her as he did so, she realized that they had both been naked while they slept. She wouldn’t have put it against him to have raped her again in her sleep.

Sophie cursed her weak heart. With him threatening the lives of children for her misbehavior, she had no ability to fight back. She almost wished that she was immune to such tragedies, if only for her own sanity. But if she didn’t value the lives of those little people just coming into the world, could she even claim to be sane? It was a terrible, underhanded threat. She had no doubt he’d go through with it and she couldn’t take the risk. As much as she wanted him to be, she knew he wasn’t bluffing.

He’d killed one hundred people in one night, after all, because he had apparently had a bad day. Even thinking about it brought a wave of disbelief, but she knew he hadn’t been lying. She’d seen the bloody clothes herself.

As she lay there, Sophie realized that despite logically understanding the chronological events that had led her to this position, she did not truly understand just how she’d become the prisoner—no, slave, even though he had told her she wasn’t one—of someone who was crueler and more evil than she had realized could exist. That evil creature who was now getting off the bed, redressing, and heading out of the room without a word had raped her last night. She was nothing to him, nothing but dinner and a show in which she was the entrée and feature of both.

Why couldn’t he just kill her and be done with it? Surely she was not the only human in the world who could sate either of his lusts. Why couldn’t he just have some tidbit of goodwill left in his cold body? For just once in his terrible, miserable, immortal life, couldn’t he exercise the possibility of _mercy_?

At long last, she forced herself to cull her tears and get out of bed. She was grateful to whatever odd reasoning had urged her captor to not rip through her clothing, even though she would never be grateful to Mikhail himself. She started to put her clothing back on when she suddenly became aware of the most sickening scent she’d ever had the misfortune of smelling.

It was the scent of _sex_.

Clutching her clothing to her chest, she dashed for the bathroom. It was thankfully unoccupied, telling her that Mikhail had gone off to do something else. As long as it didn’t concern her or involve hurting innocents, she didn’t care what he did.

The heat of the shower was a blessing unlike anything she’d ever experienced. However, when she reached for a soap to clean herself with, she belatedly realized that whatever she used to wash with, Mikhail had used before. She nearly gagged at the thought of smelling anything like him but in the end it was a pointless endeavor. She would rather smell like him than smell of what he had done to her.

Lathering the soap in copious amounts all over her body, she dared to touch the part of her that had been violated. The body wash stung, but she relished that pain. She despised that traitorous part of her body that had succumbed to his disgusting lust.

She scrubbed her body all over, paused to wash her hair, and then returned to scrubbing. She wanted all of him off her. She highly doubted he would hesitate to rape her again if he felt like it and she promised herself that every time he touched her, she would religiously cleanse herself of him—including what she could of the memories.

Clenching her eyes shut after she had scrubbed her skin raw, she forced herself to remember what had happened in all the detail she could. It was a surprising amount considering how she had done her best to numb herself from the experience.

She remembered his touch, his fingers, his mouth, his kisses, _him,_ and she began to force the memories into the deepest recesses of her mind. She would never be rid of those cursed recollections—they would always reside somewhere in her—but she could go to every measure to pretend they had never happened.

When they pushed their way to the front of her mind, they were someone else’s memory. When they shoved themselves into her consciousness, they were just a bad dream. When it happened again and she was forced to face the facts head on, it was not happening to her.

She had no idea how long she spent in the shower, boxing those memories into compartments that would never be willingly touched again, but it was enough to make her captor suspicious. When she heard the door to the bathroom open and footsteps approach, she snapped out of her reverie and made sure she was completely obscured by the shower curtain. She wasn’t going to be caught unawares and have _that_ happen again so soon. Not when she’d just blocked it all out to the best of her ability and convinced herself it had never happened.

“What are you doing?” came the mildly curious voice from the other side of the curtain. Rage bubbled up within her at his carefree, casual tone. It was like he didn’t care at all that he’d damaged her so badly, which was probably entirely true.

“Taking a shower,” she replied scathingly over the running water.

“Hurry up.” He sounded amused, either by her anger or by something unknown to her. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was because of her rage toward him. He went on, “You’ve been in there over an hour and the hot water will only last so long out here.” And then the footsteps were retreating and the door closed again.

Despite herself, she heaved a great sigh of relief that he hadn’t done anything untoward this time. However, she could feel it for herself—the shower knobs hadn’t been touched and still the water was only lukewarm at this point.

She turned off the water and exited the stall, grabbing a towel on the nearby rack to dry herself. She glanced at the large, luxurious bathtub adjacent from the shower stall and promised herself she would use it one day. It just wouldn’t be a day when she was covered in his filth. She definitely didn’t want to soak in that dirtiness.

Sophie retrieved her clothing and put it on briefly in order to be covered while she retrieved fresh clothes. Just wearing the old clothing made her feel dirty, solely due to the fact that it reminded her of the night previous. She pulled out and donned black jeans and a ruffled red, long-sleeved shirt that was form-fitting but still carefully hid her curves. She had bought it in with her captor in mind since she did not want to look tempting at all. In fact, most of her newly-purchased clothing bore the intent to make her less appealing than usual.

She left the bathroom after taking a deep, steadying breath and decided to wander the house a little bit. Exiting the bedroom, she came face to face with the hallway to the front door and past that was the kitchen, where Mikhail was sitting. She walked past without acknowledging him into the living room, which was decorated in navy blues, black, and cream. The carpet was a pristine pale beige and there was a dark blue couch across from a short but ornate mahogany coffee table. Two loveseats—one to the left and across from the coffee table, respectively—were also similarly colored. Beyond that was the back door which she assumed led to a porch like the front of the house.

A hallway behind the couch led down a corridor. Mikhail hadn’t told her not to explore the house and she had nothing else to do, so the first thing she did was try the door nearest the living room.

It led to a small bedroom that was surprisingly feminine. There was a double bed in the far-right corner with a long-untouched lime green comforter, a nightstand with a small lavender lamp on it, and a large closet opposite the bed. A desk on the wall near the doorway was devoid of anything and the chair seated in front of it seemed to have collected dust.

A quick perusal of the closet showed that the place, clearly once inhabited, had not been for a long time. It was dusty and unused and the light bulb in the closet flickered sporadically when turned on. Given how the rest of the place was in very good shape, this surprised her and Sophie wondered if maybe this had been a room inhabited by one of Mikhail’s girlfriends or lovers in the past.

At the very thought she snorted derisively. Mikhail didn’t seem like the type of person to house anybody, not even someone he was romantically attached to. It was even less likely that she could envision anyone becoming romantically attached to him. After all, she wasn’t there by choice and Mikhail wasn’t exactly bursting with charm and charisma.

Turning off the light, she left the room and continued down the hallway. There was another room that she supposed was meant to be a guest room, but it was completely bare, and then a decent-sized bathroom in between the two rooms. At the end of the hallway, however, there was a door that she found ominously locked.

If it was locked, she was clearly not meant to enter. Not wanting to anger her captor, after she tried the handle once, she immediately left it alone.

After her exploration was complete, she was then forced to acknowledge that she was hungry. She wandered through the house looking for the kitchen and a quick peek past the shuttered windows told her that it was only just past sunset—the sky was a dim blue and the stars hadn’t yet appeared.

Sophie was wary when she entered the kitchen with Mikhail sitting at the middle island on a stool, sipping some red wine. He didn’t bother to look at her when she entered and she immediately averted her gaze to her surroundings.

It was actually a pretty lavish kitchen for someone who didn’t need to eat food. There were stainless steel appliances, including the refrigerator, and green-flecked black countertops. There was a microwave built into the wall above the oven and a dishwasher built into the counter by the sink. Several metal stools were arranged around the large island in the center of the space, although it didn’t escape her that there was no dining room table. If he didn’t eat human food, why did he have the immaculate kitchen fully-equipped with appliances he’d probably never used in his life?

When she simply stood there, staring, Mikhail apparently caught wind of the unspoken question.

“It would be rather suspicious to design a house like this and not include a kitchen, don’t you think? We have to keep up appearances, no matter the triviality of it all.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye with a slight smirk and she stiffened, realizing that when he spoke she had turned to him. Looking away, she went to the refrigerator and opened it, glad to see it was turned on and working.

She wasn’t so glad to see that it was entirely empty. Of course. He wouldn’t keep perishables, would he?

A good look in the pantry, which was in the corner of the kitchen, also proved fruitless and it was then that she realized the double entendre of his comment. Keeping up appearances to construction workers was one thing, but storing food in it after it was built was entirely unnecessary for him, wasn’t it?

“You have nothing to eat,” she said flatly, not turning to look at him.

“Of course I do. I have you.”

A zing of terror shot up her spine and she went rigid. “Not if I’m dead,” she shot back. “And _I_ need food. Human food. Or else I die.”

There was a long silence in which she strangely felt the fine hairs on the nape of her neck stand up. Somehow, she knew she really wouldn’t like what he was going to say next.

“Not if I turn you.” It didn’t sound so much like a threat—more of a thoughtful musing—but she whirled around abruptly to glare at him.

“ _No._ You can’t do that.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her challengingly. “It’s not a matter of can or cannot. I can turn anyone I want, including you… ”

She swallowed hard, feeling as though she was going to choke and vomit all at once.

“… but I don’t find that appealing at the moment. It seems a trip to the _grocery store_ ,” he said it as though the thought of it was repulsive, “is in order.”

He glanced at the clock on the microwave and then got off the stool. “Come.”

Sophie didn’t hesitate to follow him out the door. However, she _did_ hesitate when he motioned for her to near him.

“I’m not calling a taxi,” he said simply. “I’ll carry you. It’ll be faster, anyway.”

She blanched at the thought of touching him in any way and backed away quickly. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and then, suddenly, he disappeared. All at once, she was being carried bridal style and the forest was flashing past her. She could barely breathe with the air rushing past her so fast it felt like she was in a tornado, but she still let out a yelp.

A cold glance from him—the only thing she could see clearly at this speed was his face—had her shutting her mouth and closing her eyes. This was all just a bad dream.

When they neared town and he vaulted from ground level to the roof of a three-story building, her stomach dropped so violently that she was positive she was going to be sick. Every time he pushed off to reach the next building jolted her and by the time they at last reached a large superstore, she was green in the face.

He put her down easily and if she’d been paying any attention, she would have noticed he wasn’t tired in the least from the exertion. She wasn’t paying attention, though; she was on her knees, too busy emptying her stomach onto the pavement to notice anything.

Mikhail snorted in disdain from somewhere near her, but she could tell he was walking away. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she momentarily contemplated sprinting away as fast as she could. However, the thought was discarded almost immediately and she shakily stood up to follow him, stumbling along until her stomach settled.

He waited for her at the entrance to the store. When he motioned at the carts lined up at the entrance, she caught on at once and pulled one out, afterwards following him into the store.

If Sophie had had any thought that he would let her pick out her own food, she was sorely mistaken. Wordlessly, he led her to the produce isle and began to toss things carelessly into the cart. Apparently he didn’t care if fruits got bruised or the vegetables took a beating. Of course not. He didn’t have to eat them.

The next stop was the deli, where he picked out a few lean meats like slices of turkey and roast chicken. Suspecting that he might intend for her to eat those raw and not in the sandwiches they were intended for, she surreptitiously swiped a loaf of bread as they passed by the bakery. She knew he’d seen her—she was under no illusions that he wasn’t watching her like a hawk the entire time in case she chose to misbehave—but he didn’t comment on it. Feeling somewhat more confident, she also managed to grab some condiments for said sandwiches.

When they reached the meat section, he was liberal with the amount of fresh red meat he added to the cart. The very thought made her stomach roll because it reminded her of her role in this whole situation; she was the blood bag and he was making sure she was properly useful for the role he’d given her.

Then they were at the canned food aisle and he paused.

“Choose whatever you like. Make sure you won’t get sick of it. This is for when I’m gone.”

There was a jolt of something unnamable but unmistakably positive when he said that he’d be gone. It wasn’t stated in a way that would speak of permanence, but the thought that he would be gone for even a little while gave her a sense of reprieve that was extremely hopeful. Who knew? Maybe some terrible accident would befall him and he wouldn’t come back at all.

If he noticed the uplift in her demeanor, he didn’t comment on it. Sophie picked a variety of canned food that would sustain her when the perishables ran out and loaded them into the cart. It was quite full at this point and she wasn’t sure how it was going to be paid for or if it was even going to be paid for in the first place.

In the end, he didn’t procure as much as a single dollar. They just walked out of the store and no one stopped them. There wasn’t even a wayward glance or telltale of suspicion for what they were doing. Inwardly, she suspected it was the doing of a glamour, beginning when Mikhail ordered her to bag the food. Sophie should have felt guilty, but she decided the crime was on Mikhail’s part and therefore she was just a helpless bystander in the whole incident. It wasn’t as if she could actually convince him to do anything he didn’t want to.

She didn’t really dare try unless in the direst of circumstances and even still, she failed every single time.

She vaguely noticed that Mikhail had hailed a cab rather quickly. The trip back was silent, but Sophie couldn’t contain her hunger any longer and had begun to eat one of the stolen apples, bruised from its harsh treatment as it was.

Shockingly, it was Mikhail who carried most of the groceries into the house. She was pretty sure it was because she couldn’t carry the heavy bags of canned food, but it surprised her nonetheless that he’d done something so out of character. In the cab, she had actually wondered how she was going to carry all the food inside. It turned out to not be a problem and Mikhail didn’t seem tired in the slightest by the endeavor.

However, it was clearly expected of her to put all the food away and she decided she didn’t care as long as she got to eat quickly. Luckily, there did happen to be cooking utensils, supplied for some unknown reason. Mikhail didn’t comment on it and she didn’t care to ask, only grateful that she wouldn’t be eating with her hands and that there was a reasonable way to cook the copious amounts of red meat he had stolen.

She set to cooking right away and soon, a steaming platter of steak and steamed green beans complemented by a hearty salad was ready to be eaten. To her chagrin, Mikhail simply sat in the kitchen, watching her cook. She felt his eyes on her the entire time. It had unnerved her when she noticed it and she had nearly overcooked the steak at the realization, but when he commented on burning food, she’d snapped into action to save her meal. It was even more unnerving when he watched her eat. Having his eyes on her constantly was almost enough to make her lose her appetite. Finally, she’d had enough.

“Could you please stop watching me like that? I’m not going to do anything stupid,” she spat.

“Temper, temper,” he said, smirking in amusement. The grotesque sight of his fangs had her looking away immediately and focusing on cutting her meat.

Silence prevailed for a long moment and then he spoke again. “Still angry about last night?” The question wasn’t mocking, merely curious.

However, the comment was enough to make her choke on the food she had been swallowing and she began coughing violently. Blood rushed to her face and tears flooded her eyes, but it wasn’t because of the obstruction in her throat.

He did nothing to aid her while she struggled to finish swallowing the food, only sitting there and watching her with irritating interest.

When she’d finally stopped, the tears and blush still hadn’t gone away. Taking a deep, calming breath, she said, “Please leave me alone.” She couldn’t make eye contact.

“You can’t tell me it was _that_ bad,” he remarked bluntly.

She reddened even more, if that was possible, and the tears in her eyes poured relentlessly. “You _raped_ me!” she shouted. “Of course it was that bad!” Then she dissolved into helpless sobs.

He just stared at her, unmoved by her tears with an emotionless expression.

“Please,” she begged. “Please, if you have any emotion, any mercy at all in your miserable heart, _please_ leave me alone.”

He watched her for a moment longer before saying, “I have neither.”

But he stood up and left anyways.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley makes a mistake.

Ashley Gibson was determined in a way she’d never been in her life.

“I need the contact information for the Sacred Heart guild,” she told the blonde, bubble-gum chewing receptionist in front of her.

She was at Canton Police Department. It had been a week since her best friend, Sophie Hart, had gone missing. She had first tried to talk to Jared about it, but even after three days of constant pestering he’d given her nothing. She was currently furious with the vampire she had recently started calling her boyfriend, but that was neither here nor there.

She had tried finding the most fearsome vampire-hunter guild in Canton’s contact information via internet and through various phone calls, but it had come to her conclusion that there was no way to get ahold of them except through direct contact.

The receptionist stared at her. “The what? What are you talking about?”

Ashley almost slapped her forehead. Of course a mere receptionist wouldn’t know about her predicament. “I need to talk to… ” She tried to think of someone who might know something. Jared had told her to wear a red scarf if she was going to contact the police, which he’d heard of victims of vampire attacks wearing to convey their knowledge about vampires to other officials who might know. At least he’d been helpful in that way, even though he severely disapproved of her going to authorities about the matter. She ended up pulling a name off the registry nearby under the ‘Special Forces’ list. “I need to talk to Cherie Lindeman.”

The receptionist, whose nametag read Stacy Summers, cocked an eyebrow. “Detective Lindeman takes cases by appointment only.”

“Listen here!” Ashley slammed her hands on the table, making Stacey flinch. It wasn’t fair to vent her anger on a woman who was completely uninvolved, but Ashley was too stressed and too angered to care. “I have a very important matter to discuss! I need to talk to her!”

The receptionist seemed properly cowed, which was strange because she probably dealt with angry and distraught people all the time. She was probably new, the poor thing.

“Please,” Ashley begged, trying to swallow some of her frustration. “It’s very, very important. My friend may be in danger.” There wasn’t really a ‘may’ about it, but Stacey Summers didn’t need to know that.

Stacey sighed in resignation. “I’ll call her down and you can have five minutes. It’ll be up to her at that point.”

Ashley exhaled in relief. “Thank you, thank you!”

The blonde woman picked up the phone and dialed an extension. She relayed the message that if Detective Lindeman was free, there was someone there to see her. After a moment, Stacey hung up and nodded at Ashley. “Take a seat over there,” she said, motioning to a sort of waiting room nearby. “She’ll be down in a minute.”

The ten minutes it took Cherie to arrive might have been the longest of Ashley’s life. She wasn’t even sure if Cherie would be someone she could talk to about this, but she figured she’d point to the red scarf and if there wasn’t a reaction, she’d ask for someone else.

When the detective finally arrived, she was not exactly what Ashley had expected. She had short platinum-blonde hair, brown skin, and was curvaceous although decidedly innocent looking. She was dressed professionally but she definitely didn’t have a professional air to her.

Stacey simply pointed at Ashley when Cherie sent her a questioning glance.

“Hello, Miss Gibson,” the woman said cheerfully. “How can I help-”

Ashley simply pointed at her scarf with a hard, questioning look on her face.

Cherie’s gaze followed her motion and then she suddenly had a much more serious edge to her expression. She nodded severely. “Come with me.”

If Stacey was shocked by the turn of events, Ashley wasn’t paying attention. However, there was the very loud popping of a bubble and then an awkward silence long after they’d left.

Cherie led her to the elevators and they stepped inside. Ashley was about to start speaking, but the silver-haired woman raised her hand. “You never know who is listening. Wait until we get to my office.”

Ashley nodded in acquiescence.

When they arrived at her office, the first thing Ashley noticed was that it was completely enclosed—not just a cubicle, but a full-blown office with walls and only one small window overlooking the city. They were on the fourth floor of the building and she had seen only one person on the floor other than herself and the detective who she’d been lucky enough to pick randomly off the list.

Cherie had to unlock her door with a key and motioned Ashley inside. It was pretty barren as far as offices went when it came to decoration, but the desk was cluttered with files.

“Have a seat,” Cherie said, and her tone of voice was friendly. Ashley sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk and the other woman sat in the office chair behind it. Before Ashley could speak, however, Cherie cut her off. “I need to make sure we’re talking about the same thing. Do you have any proof that you know what you’re talking about?”

Ashley had prepared for this. “Yes,” she replied. She pulled out the jade pendant guarding her from glamours. When Cherie looked doubtful, she took off her scarf. Jared rarely bit her, but she’d asked for it this time around, and turned her head to show the bite marks.

“Very well. What can I help you with?”

“I have a friend, Sophie Hart. I have reason to believe she’s either been kidnapped or killed by a vampire.”

Cherie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re not here for yourself?”

Ashley shook her head. “I’ve got my situation under control and I’d rather not discuss it. I’m not in any danger, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The detective nodded. “Alright. And Miss Hart… you think this has to do with vampires?”

“I know so. She had the same bite marks as I do, and the vampire who had given them to her had decided to keep her alive at that point. He threatened Sophie’s friends Kenneth Matherson and Dean Weiss’s lives in order to ensure her silence. She only told me because I figured it out.”

“Sophie Hart… she was the one declared missing a little while ago?” Cherie asked.

“Yes,” Ashley replied. “Some friends of hers noticed she went missing and found torn clothing and some blood in her home. I’m not sure if she’s alive or dead, but given the information she relayed to me, I think it’s a case of kidnapping. If he found out she’d told anyone, he would have killed me, not her. That was the threat.”

“Vampires are fickle creatures,” Cherie replied sympathetically. “It’s highly likely that she’s dead.”

“ _No!_ ” Ashley denied vehemently before hastily composing herself and taking a deep breath. “I really don’t think so. The clothing that was ripped didn’t have any blood on it, and the little bit that was on her bed was negligible. And I think he was using her for… more than just her blood.”

Cherie frowned. “You mean sexual assault?”

The younger woman paled at the bluntness of the statement, but she nodded. “Yes, I think so. And she said that he told her she was special, in a way. Or rather, her blood was special. According to what he told Sophie, she’s something of an exception in being left alive.”

“Interesting… and he went to all that work to keep her quiet.” Cherie looked thoughtful. “Do you know his name by any chance?”

“She said it was Mikhail.”

All at once, Cherie went rigid and all the blood seemed to drain from her face. Her eyes widened in disbelief and a rage that frightened Ashley appeared in her eyes. “Mikhail,” she said flatly. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?”

“Y-yes,” Ashley said, her voice trembling at the furious expression on the detective’s face. “Uh, do you know him?”

Cherie took a shaky breath, as if trying to control herself. Ashley noticed a momentary telltale wetness in her eyes and was immediately concerned. “Yes. He is responsible for the MacPherson prison massacre and my younger brother’s murder.”

Ashley stiffened. She’d read about the MacPherson massacre in the newspaper. They had said there was an accidental evacuation of all the cells and the prisoners had turned on the guards and each other with a total of one hundred and thirty-seven deaths—it had truly been a massacre. There had been no cause of death given, only a number. Clearly, the situation’s true nature had been covered up.

That had been the doing of the vampire who was currently holding her best friend captive? Ashley didn’t even notice the tears that had started to trickle down her cheeks. “The reason I came today was because I want to be in touch with the Sacred Heart guild,” she said at length.

Cherie gave a brittle smile. “They already know about Mikhail. My brother, Regis, was a hunter and he was able to relay what he knew to another member.”

Ashley looked at her questioningly.

“I’m an informant for Sacred Heart, which is why I’m not currently hunting vampires myself. We at Sacred Heart don’t believe that vampires should be concealed from the public eye.”

Ashley nodded. “That’s what Sophie thought, too.” The trickling tears intensified.

“Maybe, if we save her—if she’s alive,” the detective said pointedly, “She’ll be inclined to join our ranks. We’re always looking for new hunters with our conviction.” Cherie shook her head, as if clearing the thoughts from her mind. “Anyway, Sacred Heart doesn’t particularly follow the government’s beliefs and because of that, I’ve taken up residence here to inform them of cases involving vampires so that the problem can actually be solved. It’s wrong to swear victims to silence and it’s even more wrong to have to lie to their families when one doesn’t make it. Vampires are blasphemies of nature and they must be dealt with.”

Ashley suddenly thought of Jared and paled. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here. If Cherie or anyone from Sacred Heart found out she was involved with a vampire, what would they do to her? To Jared?

“Do you believe there can be good vampires?” Ashley asked tentatively.

Cherie eyed her speculatively before speaking. “You’re not a victim, are you?” She was referring to the bite marks on her neck that were now clearly not involuntary.

Ashley did not confirm or deny, but she said, “If I hadn’t known about them, I wouldn’t be able to help my friend right now.”

Cherie nodded in agreement. “I can’t judge you on whether or not you are involved with a vampire. I personally only deal with the kind who are killers like Mikhail. Although I have never personally met a ‘good’ vampire, I always reserve the right to change my views. If you say your vampire is good, then I have no choice but to believe you. Besides, if you were under one’s control, I highly doubt you would be here right now.” The woman then tried to smile at her gently, but it came out as more of a distasteful grimace. It was clear as day that not all of her words were honest.

Ashley sighed inwardly. She shouldn’t have been expecting any other reaction from a vampire hunter. “He’s good, trust me.” Thinking of Jared, a wave of fondness assaulted her and she smiled. Out of all the things she had expected when she heard Sophie had gone missing, growing closer to her boyfriend and finally saying those famed three words had not been one of them. And then she was brought back to her present surroundings and the smile melted off her face.

Cherie frowned, and it was probably more severe of a look than she realized. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I recommend staying human for as long as possible.”

“What makes you think-”

“Our lives, compared to a vampire’s, are fleeting. If he loves you and you love him, there’s no other choice except turning you if you want to be together.” Ashley didn’t miss the deeply skeptical tone of Cherie’s voice, speaking of her disbelief that a vampire could feel something like love.

Ashley swallowed hard. “I know.” And then, seeing she would get nowhere if she tried to convince Cherie that Jared wasn’t an ‘evil’ vampire, she went on, “How can I help Sacred Heart save Sophie?”

“I’m going to get you directly in contact with them. They already know everything I know, but I’m sure your friend must have given you some information that they can use. Normally I’d just take it myself, but since you’re already so involved I think it would be best if you had direct contact, too.”

Ashley nodded, her eyes shining. “Thank you so much.”

Cherie smiled, but there was a hard edge to it. “I would like for nothing more than to rid the world of a vampire like Mikhail. Give me your number and someone from Sacred Heart should be in contact with you in the next few days.”

Ashley gave Cherie her phone number and smiled, standing. “Thank you so much. I really… I have hope.”

The silver-haired detective smiled for real this time, but it was sad and almost patronizing. “All we can do at this point is hope. And Miss Gibson?”

“Yes?”

“I wouldn’t tell Sacred Heart anything about your boyfriend. Just in case.”

Ashley nodded, even though she somehow doubted that Cherie herself would stay quiet about it. She felt a surge of protectiveness and abruptly started thinking that like Jared had said, the risks had outweighed the benefits on this one. “Thank you again,” she said, not quite able to keep the sudden stiffness out of her voice.

Cherie said nothing as Ashley exited the office, and the feel of eyes on her back made the hairs on the nape of her neck prickle uncomfortably.

“Gordon, it’s Cherie.”

“Oh, Cherie!” came the old man’s cheerful voice over the phone. Then, clearly sensing her sadness despite being across Canton, he said, “What’s wrong?”

“A girl named Ashley Gibson came in today. She said her friend, Sophie Hart, has been abducted by the vampire Mikhail.”

There was a long silence. “Abducted?” he replied. “Impossible. He’s Demonized. If he had a human with him before that, she’s long dead.”

Cherie sighed. “She wouldn’t accept that the victim had been killed, so I didn’t try to convince her. I don’t know if she even understands the concept of Demonization.” Or as vampires put it, ‘losing control.’

Gordon didn’t seem so put out about it. “So she doesn’t know. It’s probably for the best. She’ll be more helpful if she thinks her friend is alive. But, I must ask, why didn’t you simply take the information from her?”

Cherie paused briefly. “She’s currently in a relationship with a vampire. I couldn’t get much information out of her about him, but once Mikhail is taken care of, perhaps we can eliminate the infestation of the beasts in Canton. If she knows one, we’ll likely be able to root out the rest.”

“Good work, Cherie. I’ve always admired your forethought,” Gordon praised. “I’ll put her in touch with Kingsman.”

Laughing, Cherie said, “Why admire my forethought when you have plenty of your own?” Kingsman was a professional interrogator and would be able to get information much more easily out of the unwitting Ashley Gibson than someone less skilled in the trade.

Gordon chuckled at her quip. “Sharp as always. Anyways, I’ll see you at headquarters tomorrow. Take care until then.”

Cherie responded in kind and then hung up before texting the Miss Gibson’s contact information to her boss. She sighed, feeling a fleeting twinge of remorse at so ruthlessly using the Gibson girl. Then her mind was brought back to Regis’s closed-casket funeral and her resolve hardened. She had seen what her brother had gone through because of the vampire Mikhail’s loss of sanity as well as victims of other vampires’ Demonizations. Miss Gibson might be upset that her boyfriend had to be eradicated, but in the end, everyone would be much safer.

She could only hope that the young woman wasn’t so stupid as to let her rampant hormones get the better of her. It would be a waste to have to kill her.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie hears something she shouldn't have and Mikhail reacts... poorly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another double update! Make sure you've read Chapter 19 first!
> 
> Thanks for your patience between updates. :)

Days and days had passed since the horrid conversation in the kitchen and Mikhail had barely spoken a word to her. Sophie couldn’t say she was all that disappointed, not even when she found herself counting the tiles on the kitchen floor due to boredom.

She believed it was a Friday night—Mikhail’s morning—when she woke up and Mikhail wasn’t in bed beside her. For a while she lay there silently, glad to be alone under the covers.

Since the night he’d raped her, he forced her to sleep beside him closer than ever. It didn’t always start out with him holding her, but whenever she woke up before him she always found his arm draped possessively around her waist and his heatless chest pressing into her back. Luckily, it didn’t last for long because her awakening would wake him and then he’d go about his business for the day—night, she corrected herself, she wasn’t going to adjust to his schedule—without a single word. She had no idea what he did and she didn’t really care as long as it didn’t involve her or her body.

He had fed on her a few times, but thankfully there had been no precursor of foreplay or anything else beforehand. At times she had wondered if saying that she’d thought it was terrible had deterred him from touching her. She doubted it, but if there was any hope that she’d lose the status of ‘sex toy,’ she would be hard-pressed not to hold onto that hope for dear life.

It had only been a few moments before she heard Mikhail speaking somewhere not too far away in the house. There was no response during his pauses, so she assumed it was on the phone. Curiosity got the better of her and she quietly got out of bed and crept out of the room. Fortunately for her quest, he’d left the door open. She was determined not to get caught because she was certain that he wouldn’t appreciate her eavesdropping, but if she could ascertain any knowledge as to what was going on or what would happen to her, this would be important.

She went as far as she could without being detected while still being able to hear what was being said. She crouched down into a more comfortable position and began to listen.

Mikhail wasn’t sure how he had expected Raphael to react to his plan B, but this was definitely _not_ it.

“-never really cared too much about him, t’be honest,” Raphael was saying. “If you can do it, good for you. I’m not gonna be start a bettin’ pool though.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Mikhail said with more than a touch of exasperation. The older vampire always seemed to focus on things that didn’t matter.

“Ember’ll be behind you, though. She’s always liked you more than Master. Vertigo’s kind of a wild card, but I doubt he’ll take you on either way. Guy values his life and all that. But Nathaniel’s always been kind of a pussy when it comes to Master. Dunno how he’ll take it.”

“Do try to remember that I’m not particularly fond of this outcome,” Mikhail reminded him. “I will only do it if it is absolutely necessary.”

Raphael scoffed. “I can’t see it endin’ any other way. Master ain’t gonna to let you have a human around, mate or not.”

“It is already an inconvenience that I have to keep her. I would prefer for him to see things rationally and understand that I do not have a choice _._ ” The words were bitter in his mind, even more so coming out of his mouth. He was growing more and more used to her, but the reminder that he had little choice in whether Sophie stayed with him was always galling.

“You can’t tell me she’s that bad,” Raphael said, a little uncertainly. “Her blood’s a perk, right? No more huntin’.”

There was a long pause.

“Oh, I forgot you’re a sadistic bastard. That does nothin’ for you, eh?”

When silence ensued, Mikhail finally spoke. “There are… other perks, I suppose.”

Raphael laughed raucously at that. “She finally broke down and gave you some? You must’a met your match!”

“Whether or not she is my mate, I doubt she will _ever_ be willing. That is not something I am concerned about.”

The laughter stopped abruptly, but before Raphael could speak again, Mikhail had snapped the phone shut. Apparently Sophie had decided to do a little _eavesdropping_ —she might have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for the way her anger and fear spiked suddenly when he’d spoken of him raping her, the scent making him aware that she was much closer than he’d realized and that it had obviously been in response to what he’d said.

Which meant she had also heard him saying she was his mate, which was something he had never intended for her to find out. He doubted she knew what it meant, but if she did, it would be quite unfortunate for her.

The near loss of control he had faced upon realizing he was no longer calling the shots with her—he could no longer be rid of her if she became too much of a nuisance—threatened to flare up again. His eyes narrowed sharply and there was a very good chance that the blonde would not be coming out of this unscathed, especially if she had any idea of what impact the word ‘mate’ had on their relationship.

“You might as well come out now,” he called to her, managing to hide the edge in his voice beneath a soft, velvety tone. “I know you’ve been misbehaving.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from behind the kitchen wall and he was enraged to realize that she might have heard much, much more than she should ever be allowed to. However, she made no move to reveal herself.

“Sophie!” he barked, and apparently the adrenaline she felt from his tone of voice made her lose her footing because she came tumbling out from behind the wall, landing on her hands and knees a few yards away from him.

“I-I didn’t hear much,” she stammered at once, backing away as quickly as she could. “N-nothing im-important!”

He mused on this. Either she was lying or she truly did not understand the gravity of his statement. There was only one way to find out.

Stalking over to her even as she backed away further, he crouched down to her level. His eyes narrowed to slits and the spike of fear in her scent was delicious. “How many days of torture, do you think, would you be able to withstand before you begged for death?” he questioned. “I have an estimate, but I’m curious as to your opinion.”

Her eyes widened almost comically and she swallowed hard. Her elbows were trembling so hard he doubted they would support her much longer, but she finally choked out, “I d-don’t care if you kill me.”

“Which is why I’ve taken other measures, of course,” he returned smoothly. It didn’t sound like she understood being his mate’s implications. He had to make sure, though, because he wouldn’t stand for her pulling a fast one on him. “But I am still curious.”

She was silent, obviously knowing that this was something she didn’t want to answer. Her eyes were fixated on the carpet as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. Mikhail didn’t mind if she wanted to look elsewhere, instead waiting for her to answer the question.

When she still didn’t respond, his lips pursed in exasperation. He lifted her chin with a clawed hand and even though she refused to make eye contact, he twisted and turned her face before lower his hand to grasp her throat.

“How long do you think you could last?” he repeated, and there was a hard edge in voice now that he knew would pressure her into answering.

“I-I will survive anything you do to me,” she gritted out. Whether it was out of a sudden streak of belligerence or if it was because she knew he couldn’t kill her, he didn’t know, but it was probably the worst thing she could have said in her position.

“And why is that, sweet Sophie?” he purred, disguising his fury.

She glared at him and the sudden vehemence against him, the sudden rebellion where before there had only submission and fear, told him that she _did_ know more than she was supposed to.

“Very well,” he growled, lifting her by her throat. She shrieked and struggled, but all that came out was a choked gurgle and her limbs flailed uselessly. “Eavesdropping is always a punishable offense, you know. And since you’ve obviously learned too much and I don’t care much for a child’s blood right now, we’ll see how long it takes you to wish you were dead.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I’m sure it won’t take too long. I’ve had _lots_ of practice with slow pain.”

Mikhail shifted his hold so that upon dropping her, he caught her by the hair. She screamed as he caught her mid-fall and already, terrified sobs tore from her throat.

“Please! Please! I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again— _please!_ ” she shrieked, but he paid her no mind. Dragging her stumbling form from the kitchen down the hall to his office—a place that had stayed locked since before her arrival until now—he mused on what he would do to show her that while he couldn’t kill her, there was much more he could do to her besides that. He wouldn’t do anything to forever mar her body such as remove a digit or a limb, but there was so much he could do that did not necessitate such things.

She would learn that pain was the price for misbehaving and she would learn the lesson well.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikhail makes an enormous mistake.

She wanted to die; it was the only thing she could think about. Why wouldn’t he just kill her already?

In her barely lucid mind, Sophie was very aware that something had happened in the conversation after she had been caught eavesdropping that she didn’t understand. While on some deep, buried level she was glad he hadn’t punished a child for her mistake, all she had known for the however-many-past-hours—or was it days?—was agony that wouldn’t go away. It was agony that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be without again, not until he finally killed her.

Vaguely, she remembered him saying that he didn’t have a choice but to keep her with him, and something about a mate, whatever that meant. She didn’t care anymore. Why wasn’t he ending the pain? Why wasn’t he killing her like he so obviously wanted to?

Like a flashback, she remembered what had happened after he’d opened the door to the one room she hadn’t been able to access because it was locked.

_He’d tossed her inside and she’d landed hard on her hands and knees, but she’d been grateful that he was no longer pulling her hair like he’d been. He was silent as she finally caught her bearings and looked around and it was then that she realized she was in a completely linoleum and concrete room that had little to no furnishings other than a metal chair in the center of the room and a few cabinets built into the wall._

_It looked like a torture chamber and her stomach had twisted. She had felt like she was going to be sick—but she’d find out later that there was going to be plenty of time for that._

_In comical denial of her situation, she wondered why he couldn’t order a kitchen not to be built but he could order a room like this. It made no sense and she’d almost started laughing hysterically._

_It had been stopped when he’d lifted her up—again by her hair, but it was more of a guiding hand than a forceful one. On shaking knees, she’d been drawn to her feet and then made to sit in the chair._

_Disbelieving that he was_ really _going to torture her—denial ran strong through her veins—she’d asked, “Wh-what are you doing?”_

_He’d not hesitated to cuff her over the head, hard, to daze her while he went to the cabinets and then returned with cables to tie her hands behind the chair and her feet to the legs._

_She’d barely had time to react, to struggle, before she’d been impossibly bound._

_It was unsurprising when he didn’t gag her. They were out in the middle of nowhere—no one would hear her. And she had a sneaking suspicion that Mikhail_ wanted _to hear her scream._

_He’d meandered for a while, opening the cabinets and digging around slowly as if to draw out her anticipatory fear, before turning and coming at her with a knife._

_There was a momentary pause when the knife touched her cheek—and then he dug the blade in deeply._

And scream she had, until she could manage nothing but a hoarse, ragged croak. She had vomited plenty of times when the pain was too much to bear and had gladly passed out when her body gave in. Occasionally he would leave when she hadn’t gone unconscious, but to do what she didn’t know or care.

As she sat there, barely breathing and trembling from so much pain all over her body, Sophie’s eyes met the clean linoleum floor beneath her.

It didn’t have any bloodstains because Mikhail had told her that he didn’t want her blood to go to waste, so every time she bled, he licked the wound clean until it was only a small dribble.

He was gone at the moment. She had only just woken up from her most recently fainting spell. But she knew very well that he would be back soon.

She had fought to support her words before, but she decided that when he returned this time, she would beg him to kill her. She’d tried to stay strong and stay true to the fact that she’d said she would survive anything he did to her, but she knew that wasn’t true anymore. The fact that she was stuck with this blood-sucking, sadistic, psychopathic freak for the rest of her life—because he had said he couldn’t get rid of her—had made her lose all hope. If she died, no more lives would be threatened and she would be free of this pain.

It was all she wanted.

She heard footsteps nearing and a violent tremble of terror wracked her body. She made sure her eyes were clenched shut the entire time, not wanting to gaze upon her wounded body. What if he _didn’t_ kill her? What if he refused and continued the pain? As the door was opening, she was ill all over again, even though it was only bile at this point.

She heard him sniff in disdain at her sickness and she could only try to stop retching.

“Now,” he said blithely, rummaging through the cabinets. “What toys would you like to play with today?”

“P-p-please… ” she whispered, only barely managing to speak. Her vocal chords hurt so much. “Plea-please just k-kill… me… ”

The movements stopped for a moment, and then he was walking over to her. Bending down in front of her, he lifted her chin for her when she had no strength to do so. Eyes tearing up even though she was terribly dehydrated, she forced herself to maintain eye contact. She could only hope that her pleas were heartfelt enough that they reached him.

“Care to repeat that?” he asked lowly, his tone a complete one-eighty from the sadistic cheerfulness it had had before. He sounded… mildly upset?

It didn’t matter. “Please,” she begged, swallowing to try to give her voice some strength. “P-please kill m-me. _Please_. J-just get i-it over with.” She sobbed weakly, clenching her eyes shut when she couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. “I g-give _u-up_. Y-you _win_. _Please!_ ”

There was a contemplative silence and then he was walking away. In her terrified mind, fogged with fear, she thought she saw a brief shimmer in the air. Mikhail was suddenly standing a few feet away from where he had been before the shimmer, but she blamed it on her delirium. Her heart couldn’t beat any faster and when she heard metal being moved around in the cabinets once more, she broke, panicking that he wouldn’t listen to her even after she destroyed all pride and dignity she had left and _begged him_.

“PLEASE!” she screamed, even though her throat ached at the strain. She began to rock back and forth, as though she was in the fetal position trying to comfort herself, the chair only moving slightly from her efforts. She cried all her pain out, but it only hurt worse because she knew more was coming.

His footsteps neared her and she screamed again, wordlessly, even though he hadn’t done anything. He was behind her—what was he going to do? What was he going to do? She was immediately panicking.

There was a snip, and then suddenly her hands parted from their bindings. Startled and no longer having any support holding her up, she began to fall forward.

When he caught her, she flinched at the touch, still crying. What was he going to do now? Was there some new form of torture that could only be done with her untied? What was he going to _do_?

The snip repeated itself on her legs and she was free at last, but there was no sense of satisfaction, only fear. Then he was cradling her in his arms and she lay there limply, unable to move her body. Pains shot through her at being able to finally move her body freely despite that she had no energy or ability to do so.

Then they were leaving the room and she could only tremble, terrified. Vaguely she realized he had brought her to the bedroom and she decided that if he was going to rape her again, she didn’t really care. _That_ pain had been nothing compared to this.

Instead of stopping at the bed, he went further into the room and into the bathroom. He ripped the torn, bloodied clothing off her body, somehow gently, and then as she lay on the floor, she heard him drawing a bath.

It didn’t make any sense. What was he doing?

Was he going to make her bathe in acid? When he finally lifted her up again and began to set her into the bathtub, she noticed it was tinged with green.

“No! NO!” she bellowed. He _was_ going to bathe her in acid! She clung to him mindlessly—even though he’d hurt her so much, clinging to him and stay out of the dangerous acidic liquid was more important in her dazed, delirious mind.

Mikhail sighed in exasperation and all but dropped her into the tub. She screamed as the acid sizzled at her, especially her wounds. Flailing, she splashed the water everywhere.

And then she realized that her skin wasn’t burning away and she wasn’t melting into a puddle of goo. She calmed and went stiff, but the longer the hot water caressed her, the more her tired body was forced to relax. Still crying, she realized that her wounds were actually starting to feel better.

“It’s not… acid… ” she whispered to herself in amazement, staring at the tinted water rather than the wounds on her body. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it seemed odd that the bath water was still the same color and none of her open wounds were leaking any red.

Forgetting she had an audience, she was startled when Mikhail snorted derisively. “Of course not. It’s just herbal oils and water.”

That was why the water was green, although it didn’t explain the lack of blood. Relaxing further, she leaned back into the bathtub and let herself soak. At that point, she couldn’t bring herself to care that she was all but baring her naked body to him. As long as the pain never came back, she would be fine.

He was turning to leave when she finally mustered up the courage to ask him in a very small voice, “I-is it over? Am-am I going to die now?”

She imagined he was rolling his eyes. “You’re not going to die at all. And yes, it’s over.”

And then he left the room and she could only close her eyes and sob in relief—she wasn’t sure if she was glad that she wouldn’t die. All she knew was that the torture, the pain, was _over_.

It was over.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikhail realizes just how much of a mistake he made.

Much to his chagrin, he hadn’t enjoyed Sophie’s screams as much as he should have. Rather, he found the entire ordeal extremely disturbing. He had hardly ‘wounded’ her compared to his other torture victims, but she was fragile and it seemed that she would never have lasted if he had truly been attempting to cause her pain.

She lay sleeping in his arms at the moment, her soft, gentle puffs of breath soothing his churning mind. He was fighting it, he really was, but the feeling was still there.

He felt guilty in a way he never had before for causing her that pain, even if it was only due to an illusory glamour he had cast over her. He had fully intended to torture her in real life, but the moment she had been strapped down to the metal chair in what he called his ‘office’ and was holding a razor-sharp blade to her cheek, he had inexplicably faltered.

In consternation, he cast the glamour so that she would think she was going through the pain, and though the pain would feel very real, he hadn’t laid a hand on her. When she fell unconscious, the glamour deluding her mind would dissipate, so he had to return to renew it every time she woke up. The wounds on her body weren’t real, so if she were to wake up before he returned and had seen that the wounds weren’t there, she would have realized that something was off. He had barely arrived in time this last time to renew the glamour, but in her incredible, albeit imagined pain she obviously hadn’t noticed anything.

The pain was the only thing he could make her subconscious sustain the entire time with magic. The pain, even if it was only in her mind, would last even if the illusions weren’t there until he released it.

All of that would have been fine had she not begged him to kill her, if she hadn’t surrendered. The pure, unadulterated agony in her eyes when she had pleaded with him to just end her life had sent a shockwave of what he later realized was regret through him.

He had misjudged the situation.

She had no idea that he couldn’t kill her. When she’d begged for her death, she had been serious. She hadn’t realized it was impossible for him to do so and she had never made the connection that _she_ had the advantage when it came to life and death.

The herbal remedy hadn’t been for show, though. However, it wasn’t meant for healing wounds, but to heal the mind. She would be taking many baths like those; lavender and lemon-grass scents were known to soothe and lessen emotional turmoil. It was the only thing that would help her forget the illusion of torture.

Mikhail wasn’t sure, however, if he was going to tell her that it had been a glamour or not. Part of him—a very small, miniscule part—wanted her forgiveness. He believed that was part of his instincts, the ones that had proclaimed her his mate. Another part of him simply wanted her to know that it hadn’t been real, that he wouldn’t be _that_ cruel to her, even if he had fully intended to be at the beginning.

The more logical, rational part of him, said that it was good to instill that fear in her, to let her know that she should obey him unquestioningly and never cross him or else she would suffer for it like she thought she just had. This was the side that resonated most with him and he was almost certain that this would be the decision he ended up making, but the other two parts were insistent and niggling in the back of his mind.

Unsurprisingly, Sophie’s soft breathing put all of those parts of him at ease.

She had fallen asleep in the tub, so he had taken her out, dried her off, and laid her in bed. Soon after, he found himself laying down next to her, holding her, and it brought him a comfort he did not want or need but indulged in all the same.

He observed her naked body and found that he was very glad he hadn’t chosen to mar it with real, lasting scars. Upon her turning, they would have gone away, but he wasn’t ready to take that step yet. The longer she stayed human and under his control, the more his control would extend once she was turned. He knew the change of mindset one had upon changing into a vampire—the feeling of power, the knowledge of immortal life, and the sudden liveliness one’s body felt was a heady and nearly uncontrollable experience. Many fledgling vampires let that experience go to their heads and it resulted in early death, which was something Sophie couldn’t be allowed.

Suddenly, Sophie whimpered in her sleep and began to thrash. Easily he stilled her arms and legs by wrapping himself further around her and soon, the movement stopped. However, he frowned as she continued to whimper. Then he smelled the salt of her tears.

Instinctively, he knew she was having a nightmare induced by the effects of the glamour on her psyche. It sent another hateful jolt of regret and guilt through him and he decided that this was unacceptable. He had never once felt bad in his entire life about hurting someone, so why start now? He hadn’t even actually harmed her, only cast a simple glamour to make her think she had undergone torture. She was clearly overreacting to the situation. Still, he didn’t know how to make it stop and he found he truly wanted to.

Unbidden, the thought of what would be happening if the torture had been real invaded his mind. What if there wasn’t the option to tell her that it had all been an illusion? What if he had actually done it to her and she would have scars for the rest of her mortal life?

Clenching his eyes shut, he shoved the thoughts brutally from his mind. They were unimportant—it wasn’t the case and if she continued to suffer like this, maybe, just maybe, he would tell her that it hadn’t been real.

Or perhaps he would just release the illusion of bloody wounds on her body and let her figure out the rest on her own—there was no way for her to heal that fast as a human, even with a vampire’s aid, unless it hadn’t really happened. She was decently intelligent—when she wasn’t being reckless, he reminded himself—so surely he wouldn’t have to spell it out for her.

Hours passed and soon, just as the sun was setting, her eyes fluttered open. She stiffened when she realized he was holding her, but then, she always did that upon awakening. She never said anything about it, simply laying there until he got up for the day and left her to her own devices.

This time, he had no such inclination. He continued to hold her naked form against him, feeling her curves acutely even though he was wearing clothing. When he felt the first surge of arousal shoot through his body, he decided to ignore it. Her mind was still healing and even if he told her right then and there it had been an illusion, it wouldn’t make everything better. She would still have the images and pain in her mind—it was inescapable because he’d made the illusion as lifelike and real as possible, even extending it to last for three days instead of warping the perception of time in her head.

He realized, not without a dose of anger directed at himself and his traitorous instincts, that while he wanted her to be submissive, he did not want Sophie broken.

When Sophie continued to lay there, unmoving, although the salty scent of her tears was still suffocating the room, he realized she probably thought he was asleep.

He made no attempt to rectify that, deciding that she would probably remain calmer not knowing than if she realized that he had been consciously holding her this entire time. He had slept plenty out of boredom while she’d been under the effects of the glamour. He was not tired. He’d even gotten to enjoy a decent hunt because with her under the effects of the illusion, he couldn’t rightly feed on her.

Eventually, Sophie relaxed in his arms and he realized that it was instinctively pleasing when she was comfortable around him. Showing just the tiniest bit of vulnerability—in this case, letting her guard down while he held her—filled him with some male kind of satisfaction he was not familiar with. Mentally, he pushed the feeling aside. It was unwanted.

However, her stomach decided to grumble quietly and he remembered that she had not eaten in three days. He couldn’t let her starve, so he forced himself out of the comfortable position, releasing her and sitting up.

“You need to eat.”

When she made terrified, fleeting eye contact with him before staring hard at the ground and he smelled her immense fear of him, he impulsively decided that he would release the illusion of her wounds right before her eyes. Then she would realize that he hadn’t actually hurt her.

He tapped her thigh, where there was a particularly large gash. She flinched and recoiled, and then her jaw dropped when the wound shimmered and then disappeared, revealing clean, unmarred flesh.

She looked at him with questions in her eyes, but he just looked pointedly at her arm, where the skin had been ‘cut’ deeply and repeatedly. The cuts vanished, leaving behind smooth, creamy skin.

One by one, the wounds all over her body disappeared and he released the imaginary pain from her mind.

“Wh-what?” she breathed as the last one went away into nothingness, looking at him fearfully, but also gratefully. Then, stuttering, she mumbled, “Th-thank you.”

He glowered when he realized what she was thinking. She thought he had healed her by simply tapping her thigh? How foolish—it had only been done to focus her attention on her wounds. Even if it were within his capabilities, if he had truly gone to all the effort to hurt her, he wouldn’t heal her afterwards and undo all his fine work.

Still, had she really just thanked him? After everything she thought he had done to her? It brought up a feeling within him that he had no desire to name. He shoved the feeling away and said, “Don’t be stupid. I would never heal you.”

Her jaw was left hanging open as he got off the bed and stood up.

“B-but then… ?”

“If you can’t figure it out for yourself, you don’t deserve to know,” he snapped, although his ire was not aimed at her. He was frustrated with this situation and how she kept bringing up emotions that he did not want to entertain. Ever since becoming a vampire, he did not feel regret or guilt and he did not feel ashamed of his actions. He had done nothing wrong and there was no reason to feel like he had.

She continued to sit there, staring at her now-perfect skin and marveling at how she felt absolutely no lingering pain, as he approached the door. Apparently, if she had noticed her nakedness in front of him, she hadn’t cared. Perhaps that was a good thing because arousal still mutedly coursed through his body.

When she made no move to get up, he turned back and glared at her. “Get dressed and make yourself something to eat. You haven’t eaten in three days.”

Sophie looked up at him as though she hadn’t realized he was still there before hastily nodding and getting up. He then realized that she hadn’t even noticed she was naked at all because she covered her breasts with her arms and blushed at his unwavering gaze on her body.

He snorted and turned away, heading into the kitchen. Sophie wasn’t exactly the most astute human being he had ever met.

A few moments later, she entered the kitchen, fully clothed in one of her new outfits. He noticed that the tags were still on the clothing and he wondered if she had forgotten that they were there or if she just didn’t care that they were probably irritating her skin. She was still a little unsteady on her feet as she made herself a ham and cheese sandwich before sitting down at the island and beginning to eat tentatively. The way she chose the seat furthest from him was blatantly obvious.

By the end of her meal, she was wolfing down a second sandwich and Mikhail said, “You’ll make yourself sick if you eat too fast.” She didn’t acknowledge him other than slowing down her chewing, but she trembled in fear at his voice. For some reason, it displeased him that her fear spiked merely because he was speaking.

He frowned inwardly. He hadn’t planned for it, but had Sophie actually broken?

* * *

She was terrified of him. Even if she had deduced that the torture had only been some kind of illusion, that illusion had felt _very_ real.

The pain was all gone, but the memories were still there and she didn’t think she could push them away like she had the rape. Perhaps it was because it was too fresh and more traumatizing than when he’d raped her, but she was incapable of compartmentalizing it.

She was weak, so weak that she couldn’t even fight back anymore. She trembled at the sound of his voice, shivered whenever she felt his eyes on her.

Suddenly, her appetite was gone.

Standing up shakily and without an explanation, she left her half-eaten second sandwich on the plate and walked out of the kitchen. She felt curious eyes watching her back but she did her best to ignore the sensation, instead stumbling with weak knees to the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

She turned on the shower, even though she recalled vaguely that she had bathed not too long ago, and stepped into the water even while it was still cold. It was better to have the cold of the shower make her shiver than it be from Mikhail’s presence.

The water slowly heated up and soon, she was leaning heavily against the shower wall and just letting it run over her. She absolutely had no idea what to do about her situation, but she knew it couldn’t go on like this any longer or else she would lose her sanity—or at least what was left of it.

Sophie didn’t notice the tears that had mingled with the running water, but when she opening her eyes they felt puffy. Even though she’d awoken not too long ago, she felt like she was ready to sleep. She wanted to only sleep and not doing anything else. Even if it had only been an illusion, her words to Mikhail rang true.

_‘Please kill me. I give up. You win.’_

She felt hollow now. It was like the combination of physical and emotional pain had eaten up everything that was Sophie and left nothing but a husk in its wake.

Mikhail obviously hadn’t killed her when she begged for death during the ‘torture’ because it wasn’t real. But what if she asked him when she was entirely lucid, when she had full faculty of her mind? When he’d spoken about her on the phone, he had already made it sound like he didn’t particularly want her around even if she served as both a sex slave and dinner combined.

Shakily, she turned off the shower. She stepped out and grabbed a towel, loosely wrapping it around her body, and began to walk slowly out of the bathroom. She couldn’t bring herself to take her own life and besides, Mikhail had already told her that if she harmed herself, he would kill someone else for her transgression. But wouldn’t her death make everybody’s lives easier? Herself included. She wouldn’t have this pain anymore.

As she walked numbly into the living room, where Mikhail now sat reading a book, Sophie decided that she preferred pain and ache instead of this empty hollowness that was her chest.

His gaze flickered from the book to her and back, but then he did a double take before glowering angrily at her.

“The answer is no.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, but she refused to believe that he knew what she was about to ask. He would see, when she explained everything to him, that this was for the best. “Please kill me,” she begged, dropping her gaze to the ground. She was unable to make eye contact.

“I already told you my answer,” he replied coldly. There was an icy tone in his voice that sent shivers down her spine and an edge that told her she would get nowhere with this train of thought.

She wouldn’t let herself be deterred. With teary eyes, she looked up at him and tried to convey all the pain, hopelessness, and despair she felt. She wasn’t even angry at him, at the situation, or anything anymore. She was done. “I begged you,” she whispered. “E-even if it wasn’t real… I _begged_ you. Please. Everybody wins if you do it. Everybody.”

There was a long silence in which they simply stared at each other, Sophie doing her best to try to show him the extent of how much she wanted this. She wouldn’t even _blame_ him for her death if he just did this one act of mercy. No; she’d probably thank him with her dying breath.

Suddenly, he stood, dropping the book to the floor uncaringly. She exhaled heavily and genuinely smiled at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. In fact, he walked straight past her into the kitchen.

“W-wait! What are you-?”

A single sidelong glance over his shoulder quieted her. She figured she probably shouldn’t push her luck now that he was going to hopefully do what she asked. She’d thrown her dignity at his feet and let him trample it, after all.

He entered the kitchen, rifled around in one of the cabinets, and then returned with a classy, expensive silver cell phone.

Her face fell dramatically.

“The black-haired boy. What is his phone number?”

Her brain went to a screeching halt and she froze, unable to respond. What was going on? The only ‘black-haired boy’ she could think of would be Dean. Was he letting her go home?

Suddenly, she didn’t want to die as much anymore. Not if she could go home! Then this could all truly just be a bad dream!

His brow furrowed in exasperation. “ _Now_ , Sophie.”

Forcing her brain to start up again, Sophie quickly rattled off Dean’s number, something she knew by heart. Dean had been her very first friend in high school and hadn’t changed his phone number at all in all that time. She had seven years of memory backing up the ten digits in her head.

Mikhail dialed in the number and then showed her the screen, presumably to check if it was correct. She nodded fervently, but didn’t dare ask him if she was really getting to go home.

Her dreams were swiftly crushed.

“You tell him nothing about where you are or who I am. Make up whatever excuse you want to, but if he finds out anything he shouldn’t have, you know the consequences. Do you understand?”

He wasn’t letting her go home, that much was obvious. But he was letting her talk to him.

“Wh-why are you doing this?”

“ _Do you understand?_ ”

She nodded quickly in assent.

“Ten minutes. After that, I’ll give you a chance to change your mind.”

Sophie had no idea what the point of all this was—if she wasn’t going home then _yes_ she wanted to die—but she pushed the questions from her mind when Mikhail pressed ‘Talk’ and then put the phone on speaker phone.

It rang, and rang, and for a moment, Sophie wondered if he would pick up at all. Tears pricked her eyes. How terrible would it be that the once chance she had to talk to him, he didn’t pick-

“Hello? Who’s this?”

The tears that had gathered in her eyes spilled swiftly and silently. “Dean… ”

There was a shocked pause, and then, “ _Sophie?_ ”

She choked on the sob in her throat. “Dean!”

“Sophie! Sophie! Are you okay? Where are you? We went to your apartment—and your clothes—and the blood—what is going _on?_ Where are you?”

“I-I’m fine,” she said shakily, trying to curb her tears and think very, very quickly as to how to lie her way out of this situation. The problem was, she wasn’t a very good liar.

“You don’t sound fine,” Dean said accusingly, but there was a heavy layer of concern in his tone. “You’ve been gone for almost a month now! And the cl-clothes—I knew something was wrong! Who did this to you? What is going on?” He was insistent and demanding in his worry.

She swallowed with great difficulty. There was no viable excuse for this situation. She remembered having worried about what they would do when they found her ripped clothing. She didn’t know anything about the blood except that some might have spilled when Mikhail fed on her. In the end, there wasn’t much she could say. “Dean, I can’t tell you.”

“How _the hell_ can you not tell me? Sophie, we’re so worried about you! We didn’t even know if you—if you were… ” He trailed off before speaking again, and his voice was gruff with unshed tears. “We didn’t know if you were still alive.”

Sophie let out a horrified whimper. How terrible of a person was she that she had thought she could ask Mikhail to take her life when her friends at home were still hoping for a miraculous return?

Feeling the hot tears on her face, she whispered, “I’m alive. I’m… ” she hesitated, but she wanted to assuage his pain even if she couldn’t do it for her own. “I’m safe. I’ll be fine. I don’t know when I’m coming back, though… ”

A look from Mikhail, who was very much an outsider in this conversation but still listening keenly, told her that chances of returning alive at all were unlikely, but she couldn’t tell Dean that. What she could do was say goodbye.

“… and I don’t know if I’m coming back,” she said weakly. “But I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Sophie, don’t even start to-” He was growing angry.

“Please, Dean,” she begged, seriousness an edge in her tone. “I only have… a little while. I’m… I’m on a payphone.” She hoped that wouldn’t give too much away and when she glanced at her captor questioningly, he shrugged and thereby deemed it acceptable. “I just want to-to talk to you while I can.”

There was a loud sniffle and a grunt. “We’re not going to stop looking for you. I don’t know what’s going on and I won’t if you don’t tell me, but I promise we’ll find you. We’ll save you.”

She smiled, and it was weak but real. “I know you will. Remember that time when I got caught passing that note to Clarissa about that guy everyone liked and those girls tried to beat me up for badmouthing him?”

There was a pained, watery laugh. “Kenneth was against hitting girls, perverted and chivalrous to the very end, but we definitely showed them not to mess with you.”

Sophie laughed as well and it was surprisingly not forced. “I think half the school population avoided me for a week.”

“And I got suspended, do you remember that?”

“You were always getting suspended,” she teased. “That wasn’t something new. But the point is… ”

“We saved you,” he finished for her. “We’ll always save you. _I’ll_ always save you, Sophie. I promise. You just hang in there, okay?”

Sophie refused to look at Mikhail because she knew that he was still standing there, holding the phone out and hearing every word—he would undoubtedly use this information against her and her friends—and she knew that this was going in a direction he probably didn’t want it to be going.

She spoke as though her captor wasn’t there. “I’ll be here waiting,” she said, feeling some strength return to her. “I promise if you promise.”

“I swear it. I’ll come for you.”

“I’ll be waiting… I miss you.” The thought of saying goodbye was now only a distant thought. Dean _would_ come for her.

Was it her imagination or had the hand holding the phone just tightened its grip a little?

“I miss you too. I love you, okay? We all love you.”

“I love you too. All of you.”

Suddenly, she became aware of just how tense the atmosphere in the room had just gotten. It was like Mikhail was giving off this aura of—was it fury? She had no idea why it was happening, but she did know the feeling made her skin crawl.

With his free hand, he made a sharp cutting motion, and Sophie knew that her phone call was over. It hadn’t felt like ten minutes, but she hadn’t kept track of time, either.

“I-I think my time is almost up,” she said sadly and her heart felt like it was breaking all over again at the thought of hanging up. “I have to go.”

There was a pause. “Keep your promise, alright? I’ll keep mine.”

“I promise. And no matter what happens, just know I love-”

Mikhail cut the call short before she could finish her sentence.

Tears streamed freely from her eyes and Sophie fell to her knees, clutching the towel around her body tightly. She sobbed loudly, but at this point she wasn’t sure if it was the pain of saying goodbye to Dean, even if she had hope that it wasn’t actually the end, or happiness that she had heard his voice at all.

“Still want to die?” The smugness in his voice was clearly forced. Instead, he sounded angry and was not hiding it very well.

She looked up at him, tears still streaming, and shook her head. The tightness of his facial features didn’t make sense to her, but neither did it escape her notice.

“Good. Now go put on some actual clothing.” And then he left the room to go out the door into the backyard. As he opened the door and stood in the doorway, he turned back to her. “If you do _anything…_ ”

The threat was made.

“I-I won’t,” she mumbled. He still frightened her immensely, but now she was utterly confused.

He nodded and then went outside into the night.

As Sophie changed into one of the pajama outfits she’d bought, she tried to make sense of Mikhail’s actions. As much as she just wanted to bask in the warmth of having heard Dean’s voice again, of just having been able to talk to him, the reason she had been able to talk to him was much more concerning.

She asked Mikhail to kill her and then he let her make a phone call to her best friend. When he’d asked her if she still wanted him to kill her, she had shaken her head and he had said, _‘Good.’_

He obviously didn’t want her dead and he’d told her as much quite a few times now. He didn’t seem to care much for anything else about her, but he clearly did not want her to die. And for some reason, he didn’t want her to want to die, either.

Was he trying to prevent her from attempting suicide? Surely he knew that she would not risk it with children’s lives on the line?

And now that she had heard Dean’s voice and promised him that she would stay alive until he rescued her, she wouldn’t even think of harming herself, no matter how much pain she went through.

This wasn’t just about surviving for herself anymore—this was about surviving for her friends so that they wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of her death.

She couldn’t believe she had even thought about being so selfish.

Still confused, Sophie eventually walked back into the living room, but Mikhail hadn’t returned. She didn’t know how she’d suddenly summoned the courage to do so, but she desperately needed to talk to him. She needed answers. Even if he simply gave her monosyllabic responses, she would try to read his body language and his mood. She’d gotten rather good at picking up his nuances, even the smallest ones, because even though they barely knew each other, she had spent a good deal of time with him near constantly for the past month.

It hit her then. It had been a month?

She wasn’t sure if it felt like ‘Oh, a month? That long?’ or ‘Oh my god—that was only _one month_.’ Perhaps it was a little bit of both.

Sitting down on one of the navy blue love seats, Sophie hesitantly picked up the book he had been reading when she’d first come in. Upon realizing it was nonfiction about the process of decay and death, she abruptly put it down. A glance at the nearest bookshelf’s book titles told her that she probably didn’t want to peruse it too closely lest she find out more about Mikhail than she wanted to know, so she sat there and waited for him to return.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie and Mikhail have an important discussion.

The wind whipped his hair to and fro as he sped through the forests, barely registering the pain of running at high speeds, barefoot, through untamed wilderness. Cuts appeared on his skin from the underbrush and lower branches and disappeared just as quickly. He was probably leaving a small trail of blood in his wake, but he didn’t care. Any wild animals would find the smell of it repulsive and avoid him. He was technically dead, after all.

Mikhail had had a moment where he was truly, genuinely honest with himself while listening to Sophie’s conversation with her damned friend on the phone. He wanted what they had, even though the very idea of it was inherently repulsive. He wanted Sophie to care for him like she cared for her brat of a friend.

But it would never happen and that infuriated him, even though it really shouldn’t after the way he had treated her.

It wasn’t anything to lose control over. He would not give into something like jealousy—that would simply be untoward as a vampire. Allowing insanity to encroach because of a temper tantrum over a young woman, mate or not? Not likely.

Although he was really starting to see just how powerful the mate bond was. These instincts were nothing to scoff at.

He knew he didn’t like how he’d felt like an outsider when she’d talked to the Dean boy. He had entirely disliked their little moment of recollection, showing just how long they’d known each other—long enough that she had been young and gotten caught passing notes in class, probably high school from the sounds of it.

He absolutely loathed the fact that Dean had told Sophie he loved her, even though it seemed to be purely platonic. That didn’t make any sense to him logically, as he was definitely not in love with Sophie, despite his claim on her. Fond of her, perhaps, enough that he actually felt regret and guilt for hurting her unjustly, but not any kind of love. He had come to terms with it a long time ago. He wasn’t capable of love and the fact had never particularly bothered him.

But his instincts concerning this mate business were another matter. He would not share and in no way was Sophie allowed to love someone else. He could tolerate if someone was in love with her; he had seen enough of her to understand that she was the kind of person people flocked to, who men fell in love with given the chance. It was just the way she was, and at the same time, it was almost gratifying that while so many could love her, only he would possess her.

Of course, she would never be allowed to feel affection to anyone other than him. She was his and he had already told her as much.

In retrospect, it probably hadn’t been the wisest idea to let her contact her friend, but something about her begging him to kill her when she knew at the very least the torture hadn’t been real had triggered a feeling within him he couldn’t and didn’t care to describe. Perhaps it would be a mistake in the long term and yet seeing the return of life to her eyes had been an indescribable experience. He didn’t know how it had gotten to this point, but making sure her spirit stayed unbroken would never be a mistake.

He did not want Sophie to become a lifeless doll, someone who only lived because they hadn’t died yet. She had come dangerously close when she begged for death, but talking to her friend had repaired some of the damage he had done to her. And Mikhail knew he would continue to damage her. He had been trained for over three hundred years to kill and destroy. He was not a healer or a mender. Destruction was just his way.

But Sophie was his mate and whether they liked it or not, she was going to be with him for eternity. And if she was going to be with him for all time, he didn’t want her broken and lifeless for the duration of it.

He had already lived nearly three hundred and fifty years and he was planning to live forever—his age was barely scratching the surface. Sophie would be by his side forever from now on. Somehow, he would have to help her adjust to this life without destroying her in the process.

He had no idea how many hours he spent in the forest running, but when it grew lighter out and it looked like the sun was on its way, he decided to head back. He still wasn’t sure about Sophie’s mental state, although she had seemed better after the phone call, and he knew he needed to keep an eye on her.

Maybe, just maybe, he could make an effort to make her more comfortable around him. Remembering the way she had relaxed in his arms earlier that morning, even though she thought he was asleep, made him truly consider attempting to build some sort of connection.

The thought of it repulsed him and enticed him all at once. He had to remind himself that while Sophie was a major weakness, he had no choice in the matter and building a kind of bond with her was, in all rationality, a very good idea. It would by no means be a bond of equality, but there needed to be something there between them.

He knew that that line of thought stemmed entirely from his instincts and he decided he didn’t really care and even if he did, it couldn’t be controlled. If it was necessary, he would make it a reality.

When he returned to the house, he briefly picked the stray twigs and leaves from his hair and admitted that his current outfit was probably a write-off at this point. He hadn’t put much care into his direction when he went out and had torn the fabric when his speed was combined with immobile objects.

He wasn’t expecting Sophie to be waiting for him in the living room when he entered the house, however.

Perhaps waiting was a loose term. She was dozing in the loveseat to the left of the couch, dressed in comfortable-looking pajamas. However, if she’d meant to go to sleep he was certain she would have done it in the bedroom, so she hadn’t come to the living room to do so.

He let the door close a little louder than normal and she jerked awake at the sound.

Upon seeing him, she was alert immediately and there was a sudden spike of fear when they made eye contact. While once upon a time he would have relished the fact that merely looking at him terrified her, the scent was not as pleasing after his recent contemplations. She needed to fear his power over her, yes, but she didn’t need to fear _him_.

Sophie was the only being, living or undead, who he would ever want to not fear him for who and what he was. He supposed it only made sense if she was his mate.

“Y-you’re back,” she stammered.

“An astute observation,” he quipped as he sat on the couch and reclined lazily. He wasn’t tired, but the couch was very comfortable. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at her. “What do you want?”

Her back stiffened at his direct approach, but Mikhail had never been one for beating around the bush. She had been waiting for him to come back, so he wanted to know what her purpose was.

She swallowed hard. “I j-just wanted to know… ”

She trailed off so he continued to pressure her with his gaze.

She finally managed to get the words out after a long few seconds of floundering. “I just wanted to know why you let me talk to him. It… it doesn’t make sense.”

He immediately knew she was referring to her brat of a friend. Not wanting to give away more than he had to because he was willing to entertain this conversation for a little while, he asked her to clarify. “What exactly doesn’t make sense?”

“All of it!” she exclaimed, waving her hands animatedly. “Why would you care if I live or die? Why would you care if I _wanted_ to live or die? Why do you keep me here if it’s an inconvenience to you?” He frowned imperceptibly at her reference to the overhead phone conversation, but didn’t interrupt. “It all goes back to why are you doing this at _all_?”

This was much more of a headache than he had anticipated, but he decided that if he was to establish a connection between them, perhaps he needed to illuminate her a little. For better or worse, he would be mostly truthful. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—tell her the whole truth, but he could give her a better idea of what her situation had stemmed from.

There was a silence while he contemplated exactly how to put things. She had heard the word ‘mate,’ so it was already known to her. He didn’t care what she found out about it as long as she didn’t realize he couldn’t kill her although at this point, that didn’t seem to be so much of the problem. The only thing she couldn’t be allowed to know was the effect her death would have on him. If she knew that killing herself would eventually lead to his death, then she would undoubtedly act recklessly with the information and that was unacceptable.

“What do you know about vampires, Sophie?” he asked her, sitting up a little to show his attentiveness. “Tell me what you know and we’ll start from there.”

Her eyes shone with confusion for a moment and she seemed startled, as though she hadn’t actually expected this conversation to go anywhere. He simply waited for her to speak.

“Vampires… drink blood. You can cast… illusions, of sorts? You’re inhumanly strong and fast. Uh… you can see in the dark? You live a long time. Sunlight can hurt you, so you only go out at night. And… ”

She clearly only knew very basic knowledge. He supposed that was because the government had kept stiff regulations on the amount of knowledge about vampires circulating, even though the majority of humans thought they were a myth. It was almost cute that she hadn’t mentioned garlic, even if the notion of it being a weakness was completely untrue. It was also good, perhaps, that she didn’t know about the aversion vampires had to silver and dead wood.

“The answer is you don’t know much,” he said, cutting off the choppy sentences that were simply quite irritating to listen to. She went rigid at the slight annoyance in his voice and he became even more annoyed that she was so paranoid. It might have been earned, but it was nonetheless exasperating having her stiffen every time he showed anything other than complete relaxation.

“No, I don’t.”

“I’m not going to spell our existence out for you. However, the answer to your _many_ questions lies in what you eavesdropped on. What did you hear?”

She pursed her lips nervously, clearly unwilling to go into the subject that had caused her so much pain.

He leveled her with a hard look, having decided that what was done was done. “I already know you heard things and the punishment has been dealt. Nothing more will happen concerning the situation, so just tell me what you heard.”

She still hesitated for a moment, but when he exhaled sharply in irritation, she began to speak. “Something about not wanting a certain thing to happen.” Something in his eyes must have scared her because she quickly elaborated, “But I have no idea what it was! And that you don’t really want me here, and something about… a mate?”

Her voice became small towards the end, but he knew that she didn’t know the gravity that single word had so there was no real anger in him about it.

“That is what most pertains to your situation. You are my mate.”

There was a queasy look on her face. “Wh-what does that mean?” she struggled to say.

“It means that you’re mine,” he said, and he couldn’t help the hint of warning that crept into his tone. There was still undealt-with anger at the interaction with the Dean brat. “I only took interest in you at first because of your blood. You were disposable at the time. Now, however… ” He paused and looked at her threateningly. “Now your death is more inconvenient to me than having to keep you around.”

“B-but surely I’m not just here so you can, uh, keep me alive? Right? Because I’d be completely safe at home! Nothing would-”

“ _No._ ”

She flinched at the anger in his tone and that time he didn’t mind it. He wasn’t telling her all this so she could try to use it to try to get out of her situation. Even if she would be safe at home—perhaps even more safe than if he continued to associate with her—he wanted her here.

It surprised him a little to realize it, but he genuinely wanted her with him. Logically, she was safer the less she was connected with him because of his enemies. But he was a vampire and would live forever, so she couldn’t be allowed to grow old and die. Sooner or later she would have to be turned and then she would be tied to him forever anyway through the sire-childe bond. She would be targeted whether she was his mate or not.

“As my mate,” he went on when silence ensued, “you are my responsibility. Your death inconveniences me, but that is not why you are here. You are here because I want you here.”

She looked distinctly ill. “But you said that you didn’t want me… ”

“If I remember correctly, I said I didn’t have a choice. That doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t want you. You are _mine_. You’re not stupid and I’m not going to make it any clearer than that.”

Sophie averted her gaze and she seemed to be feeling sick. He could smell her immense unease at the conversation and it was making her nauseous. After a period of quiet while she gathered her thoughts, she spoke again. “Basically if I died, it would be, uh, bad for you? So you don’t want me to die. But why the call to Dean? I-I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s not like I’m really going to commit suicide.”

He cocked an eyebrow skeptically. “You asked me to kill you.”

“Because I can’t do it myself!” she retorted. “I-I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

“That remains to be seen.” He decided that it was better to let her think he let her have the call to Dean to prevent her from taking her life than to explain to her the regret and guilt. He had no desire to let her know he felt bad for what he’d done or that he cared whether or not she was lost her fervor for life. That was nothing short of ammunition that could lead to very annoying situations where she attempted to guilt him out of doing something necessary. If she disobeyed him, she had to be punished. He didn’t need her able to plead with him that it would ‘break her’ if he did it. He didn’t put it past anyone, even her, to be that manipulative.

There was yet again silence before she spoke. “So... what does this mean for my-my future? Am I—am I-?”

“As I said, you will stay with me. Eventually, you will be turned into a vampire because a human’s lifespan is too short.”

“ _No!_ ”

He frowned at her. “You don’t have a choice.”

“But I don’t want to be a-”

“Sophie.” He would not tolerate dissent on this matter.

“-a vampire! I want to grow old and die! I want-”

“Sophie,” he repeated, growling. In her panic, she didn’t notice the warning tone.

“-a family! I _like_ the sun! I don’t-”

“ _Sophie!_ ”

Tears had begun to stream down her face, but at his sharp voice her jaw snapped shut with a click.

“You have plenty of time to learn to accept it. This is nonnegotiable.”

She wilted into the loveseat, covering her face with her hands and sobbing. “I don’t want to be your mate! I don’t want to be _anybody’s_ mate! I want to find someone I love on my own and _I don’t want to be a vampire!_ ”

He was silent as she ranted, crying all the while.

“I wanted to go to college! I wanted to g-get my Ph.D. and meet someone and fall in love and have a b-beautiful wedding! I wanted three children and a big house in the suburbs with my husband! I wanted to grow old and have grandchildren and see the world after I retired! And then I wanted to die p-peacefully, in my sleep! I never wanted any of this!”

The scent of her despair was suffocating.

“Why you?” she demanded, and he stiffened unconsciously at the insult. “Why did I get stuck with some sadistic psychopathic murderer who threatens to kill children just to keep me in line? You d-don’t even c-care if they d-die, either! You don’t care that you killed all those people because you had a bad day!” She wasn’t looking at him and even though from her words it seemed like it, she wasn’t talking to him. She was just crying hysterically now, saying whatever came out of her mouth with no filter, and despite that she had obviously forgotten he was there to listen to what she was saying, he was growing truly annoyed by this tirade. It bothered him—he’d never cared before what anyone thought of him and now he suddenly cared about what _Sophie_ thought of him? Mate or not, he wouldn’t tolerate it.

She was still going on and on, but he didn’t plan to let it continue. “Like it or not, this is now your life,” he interrupted sharply. “You have no choice in the matter, so suck it up. Nothing you can do will change this.”

His words were harsher and more crude than he had intended, but he didn’t really care. At least her ranting stopped and she just sat there, crying.

Mikhail suddenly felt that instead of moving forward in this conversation, they had gone backwards and there was no way to revoke that. She had to come to terms with turning because there was no other option.

Eventually, he noticed that she was calming down and hopefully becoming more rational as she did so.

“There are many humans who want to become vampires,” he told her at length. She took a deep, steadying breath to calm herself, but she still didn’t look at him. “And most of them aren’t looking to become bloodthirsty killers. They want immortal life and power, but they don’t necessarily enjoy feeding any more than you enjoy eating a meal. And there are a good few of us who don’t kill our prey.”

Now she was looking at him and she looked nonplussed. Was it really so surprising that there were peaceful vampires? Some went to the extreme and only drank from donated blood packets or—to his disgust—animals. In fact, very few vampires chose to utilize their immortality, strength, and power in the extreme way he had.

Then he realized that she wasn’t confused by his words, but by the intent he had had behind them, however unconscious it had been.

He had been _comforting her_.

Disgust filled him immediately and he glowered at her. She looked away hurriedly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, taking a deep, heavy breath. Even though he had never intended to, it seemed what he’d said had actually succeeded in comforting her, even if only a little. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

She sat there quietly, thinking, and he decided that the conversation was over. Picking up the book he’d been reading beforehand, he turned to the last page he remembered and began to read again.

When he looked up a while later after the sun was fully in the sky, she had fallen asleep in the chair after exhausting herself from crying. Sighing in exasperation, he put the book down and lifted her into his arms to carry her back to the bedroom.

She didn’t stir as he tucked her into the bed beside him, but the feeling of her warm body against him and her gentle, soft breathing was enough to lull him to sleep as well.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikhail is given a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So I wanted to address a few comments that have been made, at the risk of disappointing people.
> 
> It is so, so, _so_ important to me that everyone understands that this is NOT a romance. In later books, I can confirm that their dynamic changes - although I won't state in what way ;) - but please, do not expect romance from this first book. I am a firm believer in healthy relationships, ironically enough, so while I do write dark, fucked up things, a hard line for me as a writer is writing a rape victim falling in love with their rapist, especially in the circumstances that Sophie is in. That, my friends, is Stockholm syndrome, which is a squick of mine. So please, don't root for Sophie and Mikhail to get together, and please don't romanticize the abusive dynamic they are in. Thank you.
> 
> That said, I hope you can continue to enjoy the story in the spirit of which it was written, which is to explore dark things realistically despite unrealistic circumstances. I hope you all like this chapter and please, feel free to give kudos and drop a comment! I love hearing from you!

He had awoken earlier than Sophie for once and even though he was reluctant to leave her lying there unconscious when he could have held her peacefully for longer, he had heard his cell phone ringing with his sire’s specific ringtone from the kitchen.

Answering the phone was unavoidable, he decided, because his sire never called him except when absolutely necessary. The nearly eight-hundred-year-old vampire disliked technology as a whole and preferred real life confrontations to conversations over metal contraptions.

“Hello,” Mikhail said politely as he answered the phone just before it went to voicemail.

“Mikhail,” came his sire’s deep voice. “How have you been enjoying your vacation?”

He always found himself irritated by his sire’s trivialities, but endured them nonetheless. It wasn’t because he disliked Ezekiel. That was not the case at all. Ezekiel was one of the few people he could truly stand, even though that was mostly attributed to the sire-childe bond.

However, he was particularly irritated in this case because the vacation he’d been sent on had changed the course of his eternal life, for better or worse.

“It has been fine,” he replied, somewhat curtly. “I assume this phone call is not to discuss that, however?”

“No. A vampire by the name of Czarov—he is the leader of the Kineas coven—has come up with an interesting discovery that will be well worth our while,” Ezekiel explained.

Mikhail waited expectantly for the rest, knowing that his sire liked to take his time in divulging matters of importance.

“He has discovered a magic that, when imbued in a charm, protects vampires from the effects of the sun.”

Mikhail’s eyes narrowed. He had heard about many vampires searching and searching for a way to combat their greatest weakness. Many had come up with faulty ideas that had resulted in many unnecessary deaths, so he was skeptical about this discovery at best.

“Why do you believe this is real?” he asked tonelessly.

“I have seen it with my own eyes,” Ezekiel replied calmly. “One of his men came to me in broad daylight without any sign of pain or deterioration. He fed on a passerby to demonstrate that he was truly one of us and offered the use of the charm.”

“For a fee, of course,” Mikhail interjected, still a little suspicious, but if his sire had truly seen it with his own eyes then there was no point in arguing. Ezekiel could be as stubborn as he was himself if given the chance. “What do they want?”

“The elimination of the hunter guild Sacred Heart and an alliance.”

Mikhail put the pieces together. “You want me to do it.”

“You are the most capable,” Ezekiel admitted. “Raphael and Vertigo will accompany you when the time comes.”

“We are receiving the payment up front, I presume?”

“Of course,” his sire said, a sound something like a scoff coming from his mouth. “The plan is to attack the guild during the day when they will not expect you and be at their most vulnerable. As you know, hunters often keep the same hours as vampires.”

“Very well.” Mikhail was actually looking forward to the challenge of taking on a guild, charm or not.

“You are also to pick up the charms. Czarov is hosting a dinner party in Trent on Friday. Your vacation will be cut short.”

Ezekiel did not sound apologetic and Mikhail was not bothered by the change of plans. Other than finding Sophie, he felt his vacation had been rather boring. “That is not a problem,” he told him. “What part of Trent?”

“Melenn. It should not be too long of a train ride from Canton.”

“I am in Ornelle, at my home. It will only take an hour to reach Melenn.”

“Oh? Why did you leave?” He sounded only lightly questioning, but his sire was obviously irked that he had not be updated as to his childe’s whereabouts.

“We will speak of it at a later time,” Mikhail replied and the tone of his voice made it clear that although Ezekiel was the official leader of the coven, Mikhail did not answer to him. They would speak about the matter when Mikhail decided they would.

When his sire spoke again, annoyance was clear in his tone. He was always resentful that Mikhail had grown more powerful than him and was not afraid to let him know that. “Yes. We _will_ speak of it at a later time.”

Ezekiel was trying to reassert his dominance. Mikhail didn’t care enough to argue with him, but both knew that it was only because the younger didn’t need to prove anything. It only annoyed his sire further and Mikhail found it amusing.

“Friday is two days away,” Ezekiel went on after a long pause. “It is a formal dinner, so you _must_ dress appropriately to mingle. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” Mikhail replied sedately.

“There is also the matter of the plus one. You must have a woman on your arm or there will be suspicion. The party will have humans there, as well, and not all of them are _aware_. I will be sending Ember to accompany you.”

“No need,” the younger vampire said. “I… have someone.”

It was no secret that Ember adored him, mostly platonically but they had slept together in the past. Strangely, Mikhail had no desire to have Ember on his arm as his date when he could simply have Sophie.

He thought back to their unofficial ‘date’ that first Thursday they spent together and how he had enjoyed having her beside him for all to see, for all to know he had claimed her. Of course, it was a risk because if they were attacked for any reason, Sophie would be a vulnerability, but he didn’t care. His instincts wanted him to announce to the world that she was his—although he wouldn’t reveal her status as his mate until after she was turned, by which point it would be obvious—and so he would.

However, Ezekiel didn’t know about Sophie and was therefore wary of the change. “You have met a woman worthy of your attention?” he asked curiously.

Mikhail wasn’t sure if ‘worthy’ was the correct term, but he ignored it. No matter what she was otherwise, all that mattered was that she was his. “She will be suitable for the position,” he replied vaguely.

Ezekiel was not satisfied but Mikhail made no effort to elaborate.

“Very well. As long as she does not endanger the mission, it is up to you. A hotel in Melenn has been reserved for you. You are to be in the city by 3am and your check-in time is to be as soon as possible.”

“Understood. Is that all?”

“Yes.” His sire paused for a moment before speaking again hesitantly. “Mikhail. Do try to be as diplomatic as possible. You were not my first choice for this mission but Nathaniel is otherwise engaged. Do _not_ fail. This is crucial and there will be consequences should you not return with the charms.”

“I will not fail.”

“Good.” Ezekiel’s voice was curt and shortly after the line went dead.

Pocketing his phone swiftly because he and Sophie had to start packing immediately, he went to go wake her up. However, when he entered the room she was already sitting up in bed. She looked at him guardedly when he entered. She still feared him greatly, but after yesterday’s events she had obviously regained some of herself. It pleased him that she was so resilient.

“Get your suitcase. We leave for Melenn in Trent an hour from now.”

“What? Why?”

He was glad she wasn’t stuttering stupidly around him anymore. It was a relief. “Work. You are coming with me.”

She stiffened and the scent of fear and disgust filled the room. “Why do I need to come with you to your job?” She was hesitant. “I… I don’t really want to see anybody die,” she said in a small voice.

“No one is going to die. This is a simple diplomatic excursion. Now pack your bags and shower.”

He himself turned to his closet, pulled out a duffel bag, and began to pack his own clothing. Not much was required other than the white tuxedo he had bought specifically for these kinds of occasions and an extra outfit. He rarely ever wore the formalwear because most of his work involved bloodshed and not inter-coven politics, but it was necessary to have on hand.

After a few moments, she got up to do as he had ordered. She had very few clothes to pack and it occurred to him that they would once again need to shop for her. She would need an appropriate dress.

He couldn’t say he looked forward to it, even if the way her eyes lit up when she went shopping was actually somewhat cute. As soon as he realized what he was thinking, he pushed the thought viciously away.

Within the hour they were fully packed and prepared to leave. He decided to call a cab because of her suitcase and his duffel bag, even though it would technically be faster to go on foot. He had changed from his old clothing from the night before, however, and was now wearing an all-black ensemble of a collared button-up, jeans, and his trusty combat boots. They were comfortable and were useful in almost all occasions; he never went anywhere without them.

Sophie wore a conservative grey long-sleeved turtleneck to hide her bite marks, black jeans, and heeled boots. The outfit more hid her form than accentuated it, but he found he didn’t mind that she was hiding her body from outsider’s eyes. He was more than happy to be the only one to see her bare—in fact, if anyone were to know her intimately the way he did, he would kill them.

She was _his_ and he did not share. It had been reassuring in a way he hadn’t expected that she had been a virgin. He was her only and that was how it would always be.

The taxi ride to the train station was silent as he mused on his thoughts about his mate. The word ‘mate’ was no longer bitter in his mind or on his tongue. In fact, he found it had a kind of ring to it that he rather liked. It solidified his claim on her; no one would dare get in between himself and something that was his unless they were ready to die for it.

When they arrived at the train station, Sophie silently grabbed her suitcase and waited for him to lead her into the building. He was vaguely proud of how obedient she was being; she didn’t argue with him, wasn’t making a scene, and was being entirely submissive. He couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying it.

They collected their tickets—he had to cast a glamour when Sophie didn’t have an I.D. or passport—with little effort and then shortly after passed through security and customs. At this time of night, very few people were traveling and he honestly preferred it that way. Long lines were not his forte and the less chance of Sophie causing a commotion, the better.

She was improving, but he would not fully trust in her obedience for quite a while. It probably wouldn’t happen until long after she was turned.

They had just arrived at their station and had thirty minutes till boarding when Sophie spoke. “I’m hungry,” she said quietly, for his ears only.

He glanced at her and remembered that they had left before she could eat. Wordlessly, he led her towards the few restaurants nearby and motioned for her to choose. Surprised, she looked at him questioningly. He hadn’t given her much of a choice in her eating habits since she’d first met him.

“You’ve been behaving,” he said as way of explanation. He decided that while bad behavior would still be punished, there was no reason not to reward her for _good_ behavior. Besides, a little leniency here and there could prove fruitful for whatever connection he decided to build with her.

She looked startled for a moment, and then pointed at a greasy burger place at the far end of the small strip. He wrinkled his nose without thinking—he’d never expected Sophie to like such disgusting food. Even if he were human he wouldn’t touch it.

She noticed his aversion to the place and huffed lightly. “All I’ve been eating lately is salad and steak. I just want to treat myself, okay?”

Before, he might have been somewhat irritated by her snarky attitude, but instead he found himself only amused by it. He decided he wouldn’t think too much into that.

Shrugging, he made his way over to the hamburger joint. Sophie ordered probably the most indulgent burger the menu carried—bacon, cheese, ketchup, mayo, two patties, lettuce, tomato, pickles, onions, more bacon, more cheese… the list went on. He looked at her dubiously once the order was put in and she intently avoided his skeptical gaze, apparently finding the slight crack in the ceiling above the menu board extremely fascinating.

“Anything for you, sir?” asked the woman behind the counter after Sophie’s order had been put in the production line.

“No,” he told her coldly and she flinched at his tone, the fickle scent of anxiety surrounding her.

It pleased him that even though Sophie’s fear wasn’t as tempting as before, he still found great pleasure in scent of fear itself. This human in front of him was very aware, albeit subconsciously, of the threat he posed to her.

The woman looked nervously at Sophie and the blonde simply gave her a blank look, carefully hiding any emotion she felt about the interaction. Good. She truly was improving.

He paid using a glamour and soon the food arrived. They took a seat at a nearby table and he decided that while he often liked to just watch her doing daily activities such as eating or sleeping, he had no intention of seeing her eat the monstrosity that was her food. He settled for observing the few humans milling about the train station and picking out from their subtle nuances which ones were screamers.

Sophie all but scarfed down the meal and was done quickly enough that they had some time to spare before boarding. He noted that there was a slight smear of ketchup on the corner of her mouth and he enjoyed imagining it was blood from one of her future victims. A pulse of arousal surged through him.

Without thinking he used his thumb to wipe away the red substance. She stiffened and jerked back at his touch with wide eyes, but he was unperturbed. As though it were blood, he licked the ketchup off his thumb and found himself truly looking forward to seeing Sophie after she’d fed for the first time. It would undoubtedly be a messy business, as it always was for fledglings, and the thought of her covered in her victim’s blood made his groin ache.

He realized that he wanted her. Glancing at the digital clock overhead on the wall, he wondered if there was enough time for him to enjoy her body. He wasn’t sure if they had a private booth or if they were in public seating and either way, Sophie would undoubtedly fight him at first, which meant that privacy would be important.

“Come,” he said calmly. Still shaken by the moment of intimacy, she stood numbly and followed him.

They had twenty minutes, by his estimation, before they put out the last call for passengers. He knew Sophie’s body well enough by that point that twenty minutes was all he would need.

Walking quickly, he found an inconspicuous door that read ‘Supply Closet.’ He’d seen a few janitors cleaning up the station and decided that there shouldn’t be any coming to pick up supplies any time soon.

When they approached the door, Sophie stopped in her tracks several feet away. “… No… ” she whispered as he broke the lock on the door with brute force and opened the door, motioning for her to enter. No one had noticed. “No, no.”

“Sophie,” he growled warningly and immediately, tears filled her eyes but she made no move to listen to him.

“No!” she repeated forcefully, taking a step back, and he knew that if she were any louder she would attract attention. He hastily pulled her into him, muffling her shriek before it could come out, and then dragged her into the room.

“No! Please!” she whispered loudly when he pinned her up against the wall, consequently removing his hand. “Please!” At least she had the sense to keep her voice down.

“Shh,” he cooed distractedly, already unbuttoning her jeans. She shoved at him frantically but quietly. “Shh.”

“No—please-!”

He pushed her jeans down to her feet and then, with quick maneuvering, pulled her thighs around his waist and forced the jeans off past her boots, an action that was rough and somewhat difficult. She winced at the force he put into the action.

“If you don’t stop I’ll-” she began to threaten as her boots clattered to the ground and her voice had risen in volume. Apparently, being in a public place had faultily raised her confidence in her ability to defy him in this situation. He made note of that—she was at her most vulnerable to fighting back when he wanted her sexually. He cut off her brash words with a harsh kiss and ground his pelvis against her core, showing her _exactly_ what she did to him.

She made good on her threat and screamed, but it was sufficiently muffled by his lips. One-handedly, he unbuttoned his pants and freed himself. She was not prepared for him this time and there was no time to prepare her, so he would have his work cut out for him if he was going to sweeten her blood with an orgasm.

Pinning her struggling wrists above her head, he lifted her right thigh—she had let her legs fall from around his waist when he stopped supporting them—and quickly penetrated her. She whimpered loudly in pain, still thrashing weakly against him but no longer with real fervor. She knew it was useless to fight at this point.

She was dry but still so _tight_ that it was impossible not to begin moving quickly within her. Sophie was crying again, sobbing into his mouth even as he kissed her. A small part of him wished she would understand just how much sex intensified the sweet flavor of her blood so she would at comprehend why he did this, but he knew that until she was turned she would never be able to. He ignored the fact that this time he wasn’t even all that hungry.

When he was certain she wouldn’t fight him anymore, he released her wrists and she let them fall limply to her sides, and he used both hands to pull her thighs around him and adjust his angle to better please her. He knew he had found her bundle of nerves when she suddenly went rigid against him and her thighs clenched tighter around his waist against her will.

He released her from the kiss when she let out a soft moan. He nudged down the top of her turtleneck, focusing on gently running his tongue and fangs up and down the slender column of her neck. Even though she’d been defiant at first, she let out an erotic, breathy sigh when he suckled her pulse point insistently.

He thrust harder and faster, pounding her into the wall until suddenly she was spasming around him, a choked moan passing her lips. Unwittingly, she threw her head back against the wall and bucked against him to spur on the orgasm. Tears still trickled from her eyes but the scent didn’t bother him; he would have to get used to it for the time being because she wasn’t going to be willing anytime soon.

Grunting, he emptied himself into her and then bit into her jugular. She let out a pained, weak gasp but didn’t fight because this was the point of their excursion to the supply closet—his feeding.

At least he would let her think that.

This time it hadn’t been so much about hunger for her blood as it had been need for _her_. Even unwillingly, her body was pliant and amenable to his actions. Although her mind protested, her walls accepted him easily despite their tightness and their bodies were like two pieces of a puzzle, fitting together perfectly.

Making sure not to feed too heavily, eventually he pulled away from her neck and let her legs drop. She was now crying fully and when he handed her the discarded pair of jeans and her boots, she let out a wretched but quiet cry, yanking the clothing from his hands.

He rolled his eyes. At least he hadn’t just coldly told her to get dressed and left. It wouldn’t be outside his capabilities, but he had actually thought to show her more decency than that.

When she was redressed and had wiped her face to hide the fact that she’d been crying, they exited the supply closet. This time, he gripped her wrist warningly as they walked. He didn’t trust her not to make a fuss after what had happened and his touch was a solid reminder not to misbehave. Although his grasp was tight, he was in a rather good mood, all things considered.

Still sniffling lightly but ducking her head to avoid questioning gazes, she followed him obediently to their gate. The train had mostly boarded at this point but they were admitted easily without any strange glances at Sophie’s tousled state.

He attributed that mostly to the glamour he’d cast over her to make her stand out less, for all intents and purposes making her invisible.

Luckily for Sophie, they did in fact have their own booth for the trip. When they entered and were safely out of the public eye, she immediately dissolved into fresh tears and curled up in a ball on her seat. The small booth wasn’t suitable for these antics though. She was suffocating the room with her despair and tears and it was irritating him. At least in the supply closet the scent of sex had been muting the saltiness somewhat.

“Would you calm down?” he demanded, letting a touch of anger leak into his voice. Instead of having the intended effect, she cried harder, clutching her knees to her chest tightly and turning away from him.

Just then the train left the station and the rumbling of the engine drowned out most of her crying. However, the scent of her sadness wouldn’t go away and it was frustrating.

“Sophie,” he hissed, and she stiffened at his cold irritation. “ _Stop._ ”

She sniffled but eyed him fearfully before jerking away and obstinately looking out the window. The scent of her sadness tripled but the tears thankfully stopped.

Deciding that was as good as it was going to get, Mikhail leaned back in his seat and distracted himself from the lingering salty stench in the room with thoughts about the avenues having immunity from the sun would open up.

If it turned out to be real, this would be most promising.

* * *

He really had the gall to tell her to stop crying after he’d raped her. She couldn’t believe his audacity but also knew she shouldn’t really be surprised. He was a heartless bastard, after all.

After their talk last night and his strange attempt to comfort her, as well as waking up and finding out that he hadn’t slept next to her that night—if he did, she didn’t know about it—she had felt somewhat reassured. He hadn’t made any sexual advances in a while and she had started thinking that maybe he had lost interest in that aspect of whatever one would call this sick, twisted relationship.

What he’d done to her in the supply closet proved otherwise and she felt her heart shattering all over again. She had almost thought that he was being weirdly nice when he’d let her choose her own food and hadn’t openly criticized her indulgence in the greasy burger. She had fully expected him to be mean about _something_ , after all, and he hadn’t been. She should have known better.

She was terribly sore from where he’d entered her and to her dismay, she could feel that her panties had grown damp from their combined essences. The feeling made her squirm and her skin crawled at the sensation, so she did her best to block it out and, like always, push what had happened to the recesses of her mind. It worked only minimally because she still felt him inside her, so she focused on watching the shadowy landscape pass by and blanked her mind.

Letting her thoughts wander to less depressing topics, she wondered what this ‘diplomatic excursion’ entailed. She would never have thought Mikhail was someone who had a job, but she supposed any life, even if one was technically dead, would be awfully boring without any purpose.

It occurred to her then that she had no idea what Mikhail’s job was or anything about him, really. Morbid curiosity filled her but what had happened just thirty minutes ago kept her from speaking. Besides, she wasn’t all that sure she really wanted to know.

At the moment, she wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, she had never wanted anything to do with him, but that wasn’t her lot in life.

_Mate._

Mikhail hadn’t done a very good job at explaining what that actually meant, mostly just reiterating that she was his—which she wasn’t—and that her status among the living was now, for some reason, important to him. She felt like their conversation had left her with more questions than answers, but she knew that if he had left her with those questions he had meant to. There had been things he hadn’t wanted her to know.

She _definitely_ wanted to know what he was hiding, especially if it could be detrimental to him. Why else wouldn’t he tell her?

Opening her bleary eyes, she peeked at him through shuttered eyelashes. He looked peaceful as he reclined in his seat, his eyes closed and his body completely unmoving.

It seemed he was asleep, but Sophie knew better than to test that by doing something he wouldn’t approve of. Shuddering as she turned away from him back to the window, she decided that this train ride was going to be boring, but at the very least she didn’t have to interact with him any more than she had to.

Belatedly, she realized that she really wanted yet another shower. The memory of the feeling of him within her made her stomach churn and she knew she wouldn’t find any peace until she was cleansed of his touch.

Sighing heavily, she leaned her head against the soft cushion of the seat. Perhaps sleeping would distract her from her terrible thoughts and make this despair go away. In order to lull herself to sleep, she replayed Dean’s concerned voice over and over again in her head.

She had promised she would stay alive for him in time for him to rescue her. No matter what Mikhail put her through, she would keep that promise.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie is bad at acting.

When they arrived in Melenn a little while after crossing the border, Mikhail woke her up with a not-so-gentle nudge to the shoulder. Startled, she was instantly alert and froze at seeing him so close, the recollection of last night immediately coming to the forefront of her mind.

“Come on,” he said, unaffected by her reaction. Taking a deep breath, she nodded weakly, stood up, and followed him as they got off the train.

Sophie found that the station was almost completely empty as they retrieved their luggage. The clock on the wall told her that it was just a little past two in the morning, but Sophie wasn’t tired in the slightest. She was rejuvenated from her nap and anyways, her schedule now meshed perfectly with her captor’s nocturnal habits.

They hailed a cab and Mikhail gave the taxi driver an address that meant absolutely nothing to her. Sophie decided that she was too curious about what was going on to keep ignoring him, even though he didn’t seem affected by her silence in the slightest.

“Where are we going?” she asked timidly.

“Hotel,” he answered simply.

She should have expected the one-word answer. It was totally in-character for him. She frowned, knowing that he probably wasn’t feeling very interested in conversation—he never really seemed to be—but she wanted answers.

“What city are we in?” she asked, not caring if she was interrogating him.

“Melenn,” he replied. This time she wasn’t surprised at his curt answer and pressed on, even though he clearly was not interested in talking to her.

“What exactly are we doing in Melenn?” She let a little venom leak into her voice to let him know that she didn’t particularly want to talk to him, either, but she wanted answers.

He sighed in exasperation and crossed his arms before motioning to the taxi driver with his head pointedly.

Sophie was entirely unapologetic, but she understood then why he was being so vague. Obviously, this wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with outsiders present.

She thought to forge ahead anyways, but she couldn’t let his threats go forgotten. She had no doubt he wouldn’t mind punishing her later if she made too much of a fuss in front of people who were not meant to be involved in the situation. That in mind, she clamped her mouth shut and waited to reach their destination.

They traveled deep into downtown before stopping in front of a very posh and expensive-looking hotel. The front columns were made of smooth, cream-colored stone and the lettering of the hotel’s name, Acacia Hotel, were painted a metallic gold. Tall potted plants were on either side of the sliding doors that led into a spacious, extravagant lobby. There were bubbling fountains on either side of the walls and lush decorative plants at every interval. The floor was made of beige marble and the check-in counter was cream plaster and gold. To the far left was a large gift shop and to her right was the entrance to an undoubtedly very expensive restaurant.

“A reservation for Jacob Connors,” Mikhail said easily to the tired-looking receptionist. She pulled up the clearly fake name on her computer screen and nodded.

“I.D. please?” she asked politely, holding out her hand.

Nothing happened and Sophie waited impatiently.

Then, suddenly blank-faced, the receptionist nodded. “Thank you. Here are your room keys,” she told them, pulling out the plastic cards and swiping them through a small machine to magnetize them for their room’s lock before handing them to him.

Clearly, he had used a glamour. It didn’t escape Sophie’s notice that he didn’t hand her one of the cardkeys even though there were two. She doubted she would need it since it wasn’t like he was going to let her go roaming on her own.

Tucking the keys into his back pocket, he led her to the stainless steel elevators and pressed for the fourteenth floor. Sophie was suddenly thankful she wasn’t afraid of heights. At one point on their way over, a man approached them to help them with their luggage, but Mikhail declined and she wasn’t surprised. He would obviously want as little outside company as possible while she was present.

Their room was 1407 and Mikhail swiped the card to let them inside. To her chagrin, there was only one large bed like the last time she had been in a hotel room with him.

However, other than that, the hotel room was very nice. The floor was carpeted a neutral olive green and the walls were a dark beige. A large flat-screen TV was set up on top of a large bureau and the closet was large enough for two people to share. The curtains had been left open and the first thing Mikhail did was close them securely.

Sophie sat on the bed after leaning her suitcase against the wall near the closet and gathered her courage.

“So, what are we doing in Melenn?” she reiterated. She wasn’t giving up on her quest for answers, no matter how intimidated the sexual encounter had left her. She was disgusted with him all over again but diligently forced the unwanted memory into the back of her mind.

Mikhail didn’t answer for a long moment as he went about arranging the fixtures in the room to his liking. Once he reclined on the bed, however, he answered her. Sophie was glad her patience had paid off.

“Even since the beginning of the existence of vampires, many have tried to find a way to get around our weakness of the sun. Until recently, none have been successful.”

The answer seemed non-sequitur, but Sophie quickly made the connection.

The realization made her stomach drop violently. The one thing that was a surefire way to kill him wasn’t going to be a problem anymore. She swallowed hard. “So… there’s a way for the sun to not affect you anymore?”

He laughed. It was cold and sent shivers down her spine. “Don’t sound so disappointed. Now you won’t have worry about missing the sun, will you?”

At the reminder that she would one day be a vampire like him _,_ Sophie suddenly felt sick. She didn’t respond to his question, but she didn’t think he’d been expecting an answer anyway.

“The answer is yes,” he went on. “Apparently, someone has been successful. We are in Melenn to retrieve the charms for my coven. You will also be receiving one.”

She was silent, trying to come to terms with the fact that the one way she could have possibly be rid of him was now going away. Would there be any way to kill him after he got this charm?

“I believe the correct response was ‘thank you,’” he said mockingly when she didn’t speak for a long while.

“Why would I thank you for something I don’t even want?” she retorted venomously.

He frowned at her and she immediately felt his displeasure. Her back automatically stiffened and she scooted a good few feet away from him to put distance between her and the threat he posed.

“If you don’t want one, I won’t go to the effort,” he said coldly. “Yours isn’t in the deal. If you never want to be able to go in the sun again, be my guest. It will certainly be easier to keep track of you.”

She swallowed with great difficulty. “I-I do want to go in the sun,” she stammered uneasily, not quite comfortable with acknowledging that she would someday be a vampire.

“Then don’t be ungrateful,” he snapped icily. “I’m doing you a favor—I have no obligation to do this. Don’t give me attitude.”

Thoroughly cowed, she nodded and averted her gaze guiltily.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about Mikhail apparently doing her an act of kindness. The more she thought about it, she came to the conclusion that this ‘lack of obligation’ would lead to her having to pay him back in some way or another. It simply didn’t make sense for him to go to what would apparently be an effort to get her something unnecessary without her having to repay him in some way.

She hoped he wouldn’t take advantage of this unreasonably, but she wouldn’t put it above him. He was, after all, the absolute evilest being she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. He got nothing out of this unless he extorted it from her and she knew he would.

He was now silent and Sophie found herself growing bored. She thought wistfully back to the gift shop she had seen in the lobby. It had been open, apparently a 24-hour shop, and she longingly thought of the books she had seen on display. She would have given anything for one of those to pass the time.

“Stop looking like that,” Mikhail suddenly said irritably.

She frowned. “Looking like what?”

He snorted disdainfully. “Like someone kicked your puppy.”

Sophie had no idea how he’d interpreted her facial expression that way, but she supposed it might have been accurate. “I’m always bored,” she told him, trying to disguise the resentment in her tone by keeping her voice low. “I can’t help wanting something to do to pass the time.”

She wanted to add that he wasn’t all that great of a conversationalist even if she had wanted to talk to him, but she decided to let that comment pass. Nothing good would come of antagonizing him, especially when he was doing her a favor. It didn’t matter that she knew she would have to repay him for it; she figured it was fair price for being able to be in the sun once she was turned.

“Turn on the TV then,” he said eventually, closing his eyes. “Keep it low.”

She was momentarily stunned, but knew not to pass up the offer. Quickly, she retrieved the remote and pressed the power button. It went to a news network, but she flipped through the channels until she found a suitably entertaining rerun of a popular series.

When Mikhail saw what she was watching, he scoffed before closing his eyes again. It was then that it occurred to her just how much he napped. She would never had pegged him for it, but it almost seemed like laziness. The realization surprised her a bit but she didn’t give it much thought, deciding to drown herself in the TV show.

However, not long into it there was a romantic kiss between the two main characters and she was reminded of what had happened in the airport. She wasn’t sure how she’d forgotten about it other than actually being able to force the thoughts from her mind, but she immediately knew she needed a shower.

Quietly, she turned off the TV and went to the bathroom. Mikhail cracked an eye open suspiciously.

“Shower,” she told him as she quickly chose a fresh, perfectly new outfit that had no traces of him anywhere on it.

“You already had one,” he commented tonelessly.

She wasn’t about to tell him that she was washing him off her body—for some reason, she doubted he would like hearing that—and just shrugged noncommittally.

He closed his opened eye and said nothing in response, so she took that as permission and headed into the bathroom. She then spent over an hour meticulously cleansing her body of his touch. Even after she was done, she still felt dirty and ended up crying herself to sleep.

She still felt him inside her and it wouldn’t go away.

* * *

Obviously being raped again had drained her in more ways than just emotionally because Sophie slept from the moment she laid her head down on the pillow up until Mikhail nudged her awake.

Blearily, she opened her eyes and noticed that the sun had just finished going down. Mikhail was now moving around the hotel room doing who knew what, but he had taken the time to wake her up, however briefly, and clearly she was needed conscious.

When she sat up and looked at him questioningly, he turned to her. “The dinner party starts in three hours. You need something suitable to wear.”

The dinner party wasn’t something she had been aware of. She wondered vaguely if there was anybody important there who could help her, because despite Mikhail’s very potent threats, she refused to _not_ think about every opportunity she had to escape. However, she soon remembered what Ashley had said about government officials being aware of the vampire populace and consciously deciding not to do anything about it.

Realizing he was watching her for a response, she nodded at him and got out of bed. Her clothing was slightly rumpled but was fine for an outing once she smoothed it down a little. Using a brush Mikhail had bought her on their way out of Canton, she tidied up her hair, put on her shoes, and then waited for his direction. A moment later, they were heading to the elevators.

Sophie let her mind wander as they walked down the well-lit streets of downtown. Mikhail already seemed to have a direction in mind so she simply followed him, taking in the sights and trying not to think too much about how if she were with Kenneth or Dean this would actually be a lot of fun. Ashley, too, would enjoy exploring downtown with her, even though she was more of the stay-at-home type.

But it wasn’t meant to be. She was stuck with Mikhail for the foreseeable future.

Eventually they stopped in front of a very expensive-looking boutique and Mikhail motioned for her to enter. Tentatively, she opened the glass door and stepped inside, immediately taking in the extravagance of the dresses on display.

One glance at a price tag told her that Mikhail would clearly not be paying for whatever they bought with actual money. Frowning at the thought but knowing there was nothing she could do about it, she began to inspect the dresses around her, not exactly sure what she was looking for.

“Hello, welcome to Melenn Boutique!” exclaimed a thin, beautiful older woman with curly black hair piled in a bun on top of her head. She wore bright red lipstick and heavy eye makeup, but was nonetheless very attractive for her age. “My name is Harriet. How many I help you today?”

She was talking to Sophie, obviously thinking that it had been her idea to come to this place, but Mikhail was the one who spoke. Sophie wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

“My fiancée needs to be fitted for our wedding reception, but she doesn’t want something white,” he told Harriet, speaking politely but still sounding completely authoritative.

Sophie blanched at the possessive tone he used when calling her his fiancée and the talk about a wedding. However, she did her best not to let her uneasiness at his words show, knowing that she was expected to play along with whatever he said and be perfectly in-character for her part.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Harriet exclaimed, although it sounded a little forced. She didn’t look entirely approving of Mikhail’s appearance and quite frankly, Sophie didn’t blame her. He tended to stand out with his red eyes and the nails that appeared to be painted black but were actually claws. Considering the way she looked next to him, Sophie was surprised that they hadn’t been met with more skepticism from strangers so far.

After a slightly awkward pause, Harriet went on a little more enthusiastically, “Come, dear, we’ll get you fitted into the perfect dress!” She nodded towards the dressing rooms in the back of the store and it occurred to Sophie that Harriet felt immensely more comfortable with her than with Mikhail. It wasn’t exactly surprising.

Making quick eye contact with her captor to ensure approval, she received a warning look and then he shrugged and turned away. Harriet was now leading her to the back and already going on about what colors would complement Sophie’s complexion and hair and eye color the best.

“I’m thinking a dark blue,” the older woman said. “Or a burgundy. But of course, this is your wedding, so please, tell me what _you_ think.”

A little startled since she hadn’t given it much thought, Sophie wracked her brain for a suitable answer. If she really was getting married, she would know exactly what she wanted already. If this were actually happening—and thank god it wasn’t—what would she want to wear at her reception?

“I guess I’m going for a sophisticated look,” she told Harriet. “I’ve always liked blues and yellows, but I’d be willing to try something different.”

Harriet nodded in understanding. “I have the perfect thing for you. I think this one will look fantastic. Why don’t you go on back so I can get your measurements and then you can try it on?”

Sophie nodded but blushed a little at the thought of have to undress, even though Harriet had obviously done this numerous times before. She’d never really had this problem in the past, but she supposed it was only natural that after having a man force himself on her she was more conscious of her body’s state of dress.

After Harriet had retrieved the dress she was envisioning on Sophie, she quickly took her measurements. Sophie did her best not to flinch at the woman’s feather-light touch, knowing that it would only arouse suspicion and thereby anger Mikhail. That was something she did _not_ want.

Once her measurements had been ascertained, Harriet presented the dress for Sophie to try on. Upon seeing it, Sophie instantly loved it, although she was somewhat concerned about the chest of the dress being too small since it was made for a very petite person. It was one of the misfortunes of her disproportionate figure.

As she tried to figure out putting on the dress, Harriet spoke even though her back was turned. “You’re not exactly like the other brides I’ve met,” she commented. Sophie couldn’t decipher what it was in her tone, but it sounded something like suspicion.

She stiffened and halted putting on the dress for a moment, thinking quickly as how to assuage the situation. “What do you mean?” Stalling seemed like her best option as she slipped on the gown.

Harriet laughed and Sophie was thankful it sounded friendlier. “Well, let’s just say you’re not the everyday Bridezilla. I think this is the first time a couple has come in for a wedding at the bride isn’t the first person to start ordering me around.”

“Well, Mik-I mean, _Jacob_ ,” Sophie commended herself on remembering the fake name Mikhail was using, “is kind of a take-charge kind of guy.” She laughed shakily.

Harriet would never know just how true that statement was and in all honesty, it was probably better that way.

“As long as he makes you happy, that’s all that matters,” Harriet said kindly.

That single sentence nearly made Sophie to burst out into tears. Only a firm grip on her weakening composure kept her eyes dry.

“He does,” Sophie replied as she adjusted the strapless top better around her chest and the words were like acid on her tongue, coming out more strangled than she would have liked. Before Harriet could comment on her strange tone, Sophie kept talking. “I’m ready!” she announced perkily.

Harriet entered the room and let out a happy gasp. “Oh, dear, it looks wonderful on you!” she exclaimed, circling around her at all different angles to see if the dress fit well. “I don’t even need to alter it! It fits you like a glove.” The older woman sounded immensely proud of herself.

Sophie wanted to say that her breasts seemed a little more pronounced than she would have liked, but she decided to let it slide because the longer she was around the question-asking Harriet, the more likely she was to blow her cover and anger Mikhail. She nodded in assent and smiled, deciding to ignore the price tag.

She felt bad that this dress would be basically stolen out from under the kind, if not prying woman’s nose, but she forced the guilt from her mind. If she had a choice and the money, she would happily pay for it like an upstanding citizen.

Harriet boxed and bagged the dress and showed Sophie the pair of matching heels, which she accepted without comment, but didn’t lead her directly to the cashier counter after that. Instead, they stopped in front of a shelf of cosmetics.

“I’m sure you already have some of your own, but this line of products,” she pointed at the second highest shelf, “is by the same designer of your dress and they will certainly make you stand out.”

Sophie was at a loss of what to do. As a bride, she would probably want the best of the best for her wedding. As Mikhail’s prisoner, he probably didn’t care how she looked but wouldn’t want to spend extra money if he didn’t have to.

She told herself that he would probably pay with a glamour and decided that it was more important to play her part in this façade. Nodding, she let Harriet pick out the cosmetics that would apparently ‘do her the most justice on her special day.’

Finally, Harriet led her over to the cashier counter. Seeing them arrive with the dress in hand, Mikhail approached the counter. Sophie saw that he raised an eyebrow at the makeup but thankfully didn’t say anything untoward.

“That will be $6,759.48,” said Harriet and the blasé tone she used at stating such a high price made Sophie a little light-headed. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever had that much in her savings at once.

She waited for Mikhail to use a glamour, but surprisingly, he pulled out a credit card and handed it to the woman.

Both a surge of relief and terror flowed through her—relief because they were actually paying and terror because she had probably added an extra three hundred dollars’ worth of cosmetics to the bill even though she hadn’t bought that much. She could only hope that he wasn’t too angry.

However, they left the store without a fuss, Harriet giving well-wishes as they left, and Mikhail made no comment on the purchases on the way back to the hotel.

When they arrived at the room, Sophie finally asked, “Why did you… ?”

Mikhail seemed to pick up on her trailed-off question. “Large amounts of money that go missing bring up too much suspicion. At times it’s easier to just pay.”

Sophie nodded, deciding that made sense. If Melenn Boutique did their book-keeping at the end of the month and had been missing almost $7,000 worth of profits, heads would likely roll.

“Get ready,” Mikhail told her as he headed towards his duffel bag. “And make sure you take a shower.”

Sophie wasn’t sure if that was an insult or not, but in the end she didn’t care either way. Bringing her purchases with her into the bathroom, she began to get ready.

Belatedly, she hoped that Mikhail didn’t somehow find her too attractive in this dress.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie is manipulated.

The tuxedo fit perfectly, as always, and with a quick use of the ironing board after its time in the duffel bag, it was ready to wear. By the time he was fully dressed and ready to go, Sophie had just turned off the shower.

He sighed but accepted that whether he liked it or not, she was a female and would undoubtedly take a while to get ready. He was used to it after years of missions with Ember. Surprisingly, however, it only took Sophie a mere twenty minutes after exiting the shower to leave the bathroom.

“I’m ready,” she said quietly, averting her eyes from him as she hugged her torso uncomfortably.

He didn’t pay attention to a word she said, his eyes riveted on her stunning form.

The dress she wore was a royal blue with silver patterns of ivy winding up the left side while there was a slit in the fabric halfway up her thigh on the right. It was strapless and the neckline was low but didn’t reveal too much cleavage, although with the way the satin hugged her form and accentuated every curve of her body it might as well have shown everything. The heels she wore matched the color of her dress perfectly and were high enough that he wondered if she would be able to walk in them for very long, but the way they postured her hips and legs left him without complaint. She had put on a light layer of silver eye shadow on coupled with mascara and eyeliner, while her lips were painted a pale, shimmery pink. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she looked ravishing.

Finally, he tore his eyes away from her. She was absolutely beautiful and he was immensely satisfied with the purchases, even though he was hard-pressed not to ruin the work she’d put into getting ready by taking her up against the wall right then and there.

He wasn’t hungry in the slightest, but he knew that appetite or not, he would have her before the night was over. Just looking at her, standing there almost shyly, made him ache.

However, he let her see none of his reaction. Stoically, he stood up and headed for the door. “Let’s go then,” he said, and he was positive he heard her sigh in relief.

So she was aware of how tempting the dress made her look to him and had been afraid of exactly what he had initially wanted to do to her. The mission came first though, and they were going to be late if they didn’t hurry, but he wouldn’t leave her worrying about it for nothing. He needed her and the moment the mission was complete, he would have her.

They headed to the curb at a brisk pace where a limousine was waiting for them. Sophie looked surprised, but his sire would never have let them sully their coven’s name by taking a cheap taxi to such an important event.

The limo driver knew exactly where they were headed and it was a little way outside of town on a large estate. Czarov was one of the vampires who lived in extreme luxury—Mikhail had never been inclined for it, but many older vampires had accumulated a good deal of wealth over the many years of their existence and used it to lead extravagant lives.

After thirty minutes, they arrived at the sprawling mansion. The estate was surrounded by tall black iron gates and the mansion itself was of an ancient, Gothic make. Grotesque gargoyle statues were on every ledge and the building was gloomy in its own right with austere gray stonework and intimidating structures. The inside wouldn’t match the exterior, of course, but Czarov clearly valued the ancient Gothic architecture.

They were greeted by a butler at the front who was a vampire, Mikhail noted, and he immediately knew all the staff would be. The butler led them at a leisurely pace through long hallways to the ballroom. Mikhail took that time to give Sophie a threatening look, to which she nodded, and then slipped his arm through hers possessively. She stiffened but he paid it no mind.

It did not go unnoticed that when they entered the opulent room many wandering eyes immediately fixed on Sophie, especially the older human males’. He easily smelled her uneasiness at the subtly lecherous looks she was receiving but did not find himself worried about it. Instead, he was pleased that once their eyes traveled to the person whose arm was linked through hers, envy and light indignation flared in their scents. He had grown used to the looks he received when Ember was on his arm in these kinds of situations, as rare as they were for him, and their subdued, angry jealousy didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Silently, they passed through the crowds, even though it was a poor attempt at mingling. Mikhail had never been one for petty socializing, which was why the generally amicable and cultured Nathaniel was better suited for these events. He, Raphael, and Vertigo were out on missions already and with some irritation, Mikhail realized that Ember _would_ have been better at this kind of thing. She was allowed to talk freely with those around her without risking suspicion and was already used to these kinds of events since she was the only female in his coven and most of her missions involved diplomacy and seduction. She and Nathaniel as a pair would have been perfect for this, but Mikhail was not and never had been. Sophie, on the other hand, probably could have participated with ease if not for the situation that had brought her into this in the first place. She wasn’t here willingly and could not be trusted to speak unless absolutely necessary.

Luckily, not long after a waiter stopped by to offer them champagne were they approached by an older, bearded black-haired man. He stood tall in his tailored tuxedo, but even so he and Mikhail were of equal height.

“Mikhail, I presume,” the man said. There was a curvaceous redheaded woman on his arm and she had a strange, clearly jealous look in her eyes as she looked at Sophie, but Mikhail detected no threat from her and ignored her existence entirely. The vampire who was standing in front of him was the sole reason he was here.

“Yes. And you are Czarov,” he responded evenly.

The confirmed Czarov laughed heartily. “Sharp. I like that,” he said, but his silky words were a blade covered in velvet. Mikhail understood that if Czarov had truly found a solution to the problem that was the sun, his coven was for all intents and purposes obligated to meet the vampire’s price. He also knew that he would never trust this Czarov. Whether or not he liked people, he was a rather good judge of character and he already knew Czarov would not pass his test. The vampire exuded a sense of opportunism and dishonesty, and although he didn’t like it, those traits were actually rather useful for his purposes.

Mikhail distrusted him even more when Czarov turned to Sophie and blatantly eyed her up and down. She averted her eyes uncomfortably, although she’d been curiously watching the interaction.

“And you are?” Czarov asked her politely.

“Unimportant,” Mikhail answered curtly and he shot Czarov a clear look of warning. Apparently his reputation preceded him because the older vampire made a slight jerking motion with his head—probably meant to be some sort of nod—and immediately took his eyes off Sophie.

“I believe we have business to attend to?” Czarov went on smoothly, as though no unspoken threat on his life had been made just moments before. Mikhail nodded and Czarov began to lead them towards a private room in the back, cordially greeting the guests who approached him but never wavering in his course.

Mikhail was satisfied that his claim was clear and he liked that there was still a small spike of cowardly fear in the older vampire’s scent. He found himself disappointed that the man who’d made such an incredible discovery was of such weak constitution, but at the same time he decided it was for the better. Perhaps he would be of some use here given that his best means of communication were intimidation and threats.

All he had to do was pick up the charms, according to his sire. After that, they could leave and he could spend the rest of the night ruining the hard work Sophie had put into her appearance.

Czarov released the woman at his side when they reached a heavy oak door that led into some kind of office. Sophie still on his arm—and he noticed absently that she was unconsciously holding onto him a little tighter now, which was wholly amusing—they entered the room and Czarov took a seat behind the large mahogany desk in the center of the room.

He motioned for them to sit in the two chairs across from the desk and then cut straight to the chase. “Although there are not many who are similar in appearance to you, I must ask for proof that you are who you say you are,” Czarov said, but his tone was so friendly that it was hard to detect the veiled threat behind them. “And… ?” He glanced pointedly at Sophie.

“She is aware,” Mikhail told him. “And she will not be a problem.” He accentuated this by tightly gripping Sophie’s forearm. Czarov’s couldn’t see it, but the blonde’s fear spike had ensured the warning was conspicuously conveyed. “As for my proof of my identity… Sol non lucet noctu.”

Mikhail could practically taste Sophie’s muted curiosity at the foreign language. It meant ‘The sun never shines at night,’ but of course she wouldn’t know that. The phrase was a passcode of sorts and as long as she didn’t understand what it meant, it wouldn’t hold any significance for her.

“Very good,” Czarov said, sounding pleased. “Then we may begin. Ezekiel has told me that you accept the terms of our agreement?”

Although he was not particularly suited for negotiations, Mikhail knew better than the blindly agree to conditions. “I would like them repeated. For clarity, of course.”

Mikhail did not like to be tricked in any way, shape, or form and he would make that _very_ clear to the untrustworthy vampire in front of him.

The other vampire nodded, as though in agreement. “An alliance,” Czarov told him, “but more importantly, the elimination of the vampire hunter guild Sacred Heart.”

“A hefty demand,” Mikhail commented dryly. He knew Ezekiel had already agreed to this and he had no problem carrying out his sire’s orders—especially when it would prove to be a challenge—but he found himself rather curious as to the motivation. “Sacred Heart is one of the strongest hunter guilds in North Calgary. It’s a rather tall order, don’t you think?”

“If anyone’s capable of their defeat, it’s the Silas,” Czarov returned easily. “And with the charms, your coven will be as close to invincible as possible.”

Mikhail found that he couldn’t disagree with that. “That’s fair, I suppose. However, there is something Ezekiel failed to mention during the negotiations.”

Czarov raised an eyebrow skeptically, obviously sensing the lie. “And what would that be?”

“There is need of a seventh charm.”

It was a risk and what he was doing was more or less insubordination, but his intuition that Czarov was an opportunist paid off.

“Oh? Ezekiel must have forgotten to mention it,” Czarov replied lightly. From that point on, the rest of the deal would completely under the table. “You understand the price will be raised.”

Mikhail expected no less. “Of course. This has been anticipated. Your terms?”

It did not escape his attention that Sophie was rigid beside him and listening keenly.

“Given your specialties, I believe this task should not be too difficult,” Czarov said, and it was clear that he knew this deal was solely between himself and Mikhail. “I require revenge on a vampire who has betrayed me. His name is Jared Albrecht and he is currently stationed in Canton, apparently associating with humans far more than he should be. In return for the seventh charm, I want the head of the human he is associating with delivered to me. It will teach him not to cross his superiors.”

“And who is this human?” Mikhail felt that this unofficial mission was far below his skill level—he hadn’t been tasked to do something as simple as murder a nobody-human in a long time—but at least it was simple.

“A female by the name of Ashley Gibson.”

“ _No!_ You can’t do that!” Sophie suddenly shouted, shooting to her feet in an instant. Mikhail’s eyes snapped to her immediately, rage filling him at her unwanted intrusion into the conversation. She didn’t look at him, instead looking pleadingly at Czarov. Like a tidal wave, the scent of Sophie’s panic had flooded the room. Czarov regarded her with interest while Mikhail tried to restrain himself from snapping her neck.

“Do you have a connection with Miss Gibson?” Czarov asked silkily.

“Yes! Yes, I do,” Sophie said, her voice strong and unwavering. “She shouldn’t have to die for someone else’s mistakes! That’s wrong and you’re despicable for even asking for that!”

The entire situation was spinning out of control rapidly. Czarov looked more amused than angered but Mikhail knew that if Sophie insulted him any further, his chance of obtaining a seventh charm would dissipate rapidly.

“Sophie, sit down,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.

At the sound of his voice, her fear intensified, but she forged on without even so much as glancing in his direction. “Ask for anything else,” she begged Czarov. “Please, just don’t hurt her. She has nothing to do with this.”

Fury filled him at the blatant disregard. She would be punished gravely for this.

However, Czarov seemed to be enjoying the entire interaction. “Sophie,” he said, his tone sickening saccharine, and Mikhail inwardly cursed that Czarov had discovered her name. “If you were in my position, how would _you_ demonstrate that you were not be betrayed?”

From the corner of his eye, Mikhail watched her. She swallowed hard, clenched her eyes shut tightly, before taking a deep breath and saying, “I would just have him killed.” She was whispering, but she still choked on the words as she spoke as though they were painful coming from her lips. A tear trickled down her cheek. “If he’s done it before, he could do it again. I would spare the innocents and just have him killed, if I had to do it at all.”

Czarov leaned back in his chair as though musing. Sophie’s eyes fluttered open just as Czarov started shaking his head.

“Too merciful, my dear,” he said. “Jared has gone too far.”

“B-but what if he wants revenge?” she stammered desperately. “Surely just eliminating the source would be better than making him even more your enemy?”

Czarov smiled wolfishly and Mikhail knew that the older vampire was simply playing with Sophie at this point. Whether he was going to ask for Albrecht or Gibson’s murder, he’d already made up his mind and was simply toying with her emotions while she played his game helplessly.

Even though she would be an emotional wreck after Czarov was done with her no matter the decision made, Mikhail decided she deserved it for so openly defying him. She would obviously be punished later anyway, but he would let her reap the consequences of her actions.

“Jared is young,” Czarov responded. “He has no chance of standing up to me, so whether or not he is angry is inconsequential. I merely wish him pain.”

Sophie bit her lip as she tried to think of more reasons why the Gibson girl shouldn’t be killed. What she said next was spoken with great finality.

“I’ll be indebted to you.”

“Oh? And what can a human such as yourself provide me?” Now Czarov was enjoying this _too_ much. The scent of his arousal was filling the room.

Mikhail shot him a deadly look and the older vampire’s smirk faded, but Sophie wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m not sure… but whatever you want, I’m willing to try.”

“No.” Mikhail’s voice was sharp and cut through the tension like a knife through hot butter.

Czarov was clever and had clearly noticed the dynamic of power between the two of them, so he shook his head. “I apologize, Sophie. There is nothing I can do for you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Please! She’s my best friend! Please don’t hurt her! Please… just… somebody else! _Anybody else!_ ” She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

Czarov made a big show of considering her words and it was obviously fake, but Mikhail relished the desperation in Sophie’s scent. She shouldn’t have argued with something that did not concern her.

Finally, the older vampire seemed to have come to a decision just as Sophie’s tears had begun to intensify further. “A vampire such as myself can’t rightly just let a beautiful woman cry,” Czarov said and Mikhail knew he was lying through his teeth. The bearded man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and was probably enjoying Sophie’s tears. However, she looked hopeful at his words.

Czarov turned to him. “I will allow an exception. Jared will be brought to me alive.”

“Thank you!” Sophie gasped, and she all but collapsed into her chair. She was still crying, but she was clearly relieved.

Mikhail figured she was relieved that Gibson was being spared, but in all honesty, she’d just brought a much worse fate upon Jared than just death. The vampire would undoubtedly undergo months of torture, if not years, before being killed in the most painful way possible. In her own unwitting way, she had just made things much worse for this Jared. But, he supposed, from Sophie’s point of view, at least her friend was safe.

For the time being, anyway. Czarov was perfectly capable of contracting the girl’s death with someone else.

“Very well,” Mikhail said in response to Czarov, keeping his voice calm. Sophie would be punished later but for now, there was still business to attend to. “I agree to the terms.”

“Good, good.” Czarov clapped his hands together. “Natasia!” he called, and not long after the redheaded woman who had been on his arm earlier appeared in the doorway. “Go retrieve the order and bring… hmm… the spare sapphire.”

“Yes, Master Czarov,” she said, and even Mikhail admitted her voice was unsettling for some reason.

The door shut in the interim while they waited for the charms.

“I suppose I should explain them to you,” Czarov said after not too long. “The magic used will remain my personal information, but their use is important.”

Mikhail nodded in agreement.

“The magic is imbued in precious gems that are receptive to it, which are namely rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. All four are equally receptive and provide the same amount of protection. The chains themselves are silver but encased in an ultra-thin layer of platinum for the protection of the wearer. However, if another vampire were to attempt to remove or steal the charm, the silver would burn them.”

Mikhail raised an eyebrow. “How exactly does that work?”

“The main strength of these charms is the blood bond involved. They are nothing but pretty jewelry until the blood ritual is performed and then their magic activates according to whose blood was used. I am the only one who knows the ritual, so even if they were all stolen, they would be useless to the thief except for making a pretty penny.” There was an edge to his voice, a warning. “Anyway, the blood bond makes it so that only the person who is bonded with the necklace may remove it should it need to be removed for any reason. It’s not in the trial stages anymore, but there is still the chance that the removal might be necessary.”

This actually would be important. “Would it be possible for a double-ritual? The seventh charm requires one person to be able to remove the charm while it protects the other person.”

Czarov wasn’t stupid. Even though it was in vague terms, it was obvious that whoever would be wearing the charm might have a reason for removing it that was unacceptable to someone else. If Czarov had connected it to Mikhail and Sophie it wouldn’t be surprising, but even though the man was untrustworthy, he was in charge and unfortunately this was unavoidable.

“It would be possible, I suppose,” Czarov said at length. “The runes would have to be altered, but that should be fairly simple.”

“Good.”

Soon, Natasia returned with a small, rectangular black velvet box. She bowed in Czarov’s direction before silently excusing herself. Mikhail wished that Sophie would show that kind of wordless, unwavering respect and obedience on a permanent basis.

“Now, since the other members are not here, I am going to prepare their charms but they will still be useless until their blood is absorbed. Should there be an accident where someone else’s blood touches it, please notify me and I will gladly replace the charm so long as the original is returned to me for destruction.”

Mikhail nodded and Czarov began to chant ancient words over the charms. He didn’t bother listening too closely because other than glamours, Mikhail had no interest in magic. It served him when necessary, but his power was in his claws. He had no need for fancy spells.

“Now, I need your blood and Miss Sophie’s,” Czarov said, pulling out a rather masculine necklace that had a large ruby carved into the shape of a gothic cross and then a second, more feminine one that had a diamond-shaped sapphire on a longer chain.

It didn’t surprise him that Czarov had figured out Sophie was the person the seventh necklace was for. If he had any questions about why a human needed it, they were easy to answer if one simply gave it some thought.

Czarov laid out the charms in front of their respective owners. Sophie had stopped crying a while ago and was now staring at the necklace in front of her with quiet curiosity.

“Mikhail, your necklace will require six drops of blood directly over the ruby’s center. As far as Miss Sophie’s, spread out four over the length of the chain but do not allow any to fall on the gem itself.”

Using a claw to pierce his palm, he complied, watching with vague fascination as his charm glowed red before doing the same to Sophie’s excluding putting his blood on the sapphire.

“Put it on. Once connected, the clasp with disappear from sight and only of your own genuine willpower will it come off. This is to prevent coercion to remove the charm. As far as anyone else knows, you are incapable of taking it off ever again.”

Mikhail nodded and clasped the charm around his neck. It was light and he barely noticed its presence on his skin. Indeed, the silver wasn’t affecting him.

“Now, Miss Sophie needs to put six drops of her blood on hers.”

Still angered at her for her disobedience, Mikhail snatched Sophie’s wrist tightly. She jerked lightly as though to fight back, but he ignored her and pierced her fingertip, not quite gently. She whimpered. When the six drops had touched the gem and been absorbed, Czarov muttered a few more words in the ancient language. Clearly, this was the altering of the runes he had spoken about.

“Mikhail, you will have to put it on her. It only responds to your touch.”

Within moments, the charm hung from her neck and he was pleased that she had only flinched at his touch once.

Czarov passed him the box with the others. “Once their blood has been bonded with the charm, they will be immune to the effects of the sun. I expect my end of the bargain to be completed in a timely manner.”

“It will be,” Mikhail replied, accepting the box. It was small enough to tuck into a pocket and go unnoticed. “Thank you for your time.”

“I hope this will be an illustrious alliance,” Czarov told him. “Please, do send Ezekiel my regards.”

Mikhail only nodded and, grasping Sophie’s wrist tightly, led her from the room with Czarov following shortly afterward.

Once they exited the mansion—business had been conducted and the dinner party had really just been an excuse to invite important vampires from around the world to showcase and sell Czarov’s charms—Sophie apparently became aware of his anger towards her because the scent of her fear was slowly but surely increasing as he yanked her towards the limousine waiting for them.

“Get in,” he told her coldly and she looked at him with wide, terrified eyes as she complied. He followed her in and slammed the door shut.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered once the driver had pulled away from the curb. “Ashley’s my best friend. I couldn’t let her be-”

“You could have very easily ruined _everything_ ,” Mikhail hissed at her. “If Czarov hadn’t enjoyed taking advantage of your naivety, I might not have received the charms—and that would have been very bad for everyone involved, especially _you_. If you decide to risk ruining things over these ‘friends’ of yours, I might just have to kill them all to eliminate the problem.”

She gasped. “No! I couldn’t just-”

“You had no part in this,” Mikhail cut her off sharply. “I believe your punishment will be your friend’s death. I’ll be in Canton soon anyways.”

“No!” she shrieked. “No, no, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t-”

In a split second, he was in front of her and his hand was encompassing her throat, squeezing tightly and blocking her airway, causing her to choke. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I will give you choice. Ashley or an infant. You have thirty seconds.”

Horror filled her eyes as she gasped for air around his grip and the tears fell faster.

“Twenty seconds.”

She pulled at the hand around her throat, gurgling and straining for oxygen.

“Fifteen seconds.”

Mikhail knew what her answer would be; she would choose the infant to die. Who would choose a nameless, faceless stranger to live over someone who was their best friend? Even though he knew she couldn’t rightly speak when he was strangling her, her throat being crushed in his hands was strangely satisfying, even though he knew he would have to stop the moment it started threatening her life. He could already feel his grip naturally loosening due to his instincts to preserve her life.

“Five seconds.” He released her throat.

“Please,” she rasped, wincing as she used her voice. “Please… d-don’t… ”

“Time’s up. Who dies?”

Sophie just cried.

He frowned. “If you don’t make the decision yourself, _both_ will.”

She let out a pained sob. “The child. Let the child live.”

Then she dissolved into horrible tears and wracking sobs that filled the silence while he realized with some surprise that Sophie was sacrificing her friend, her own happiness so that a child had the chance to live.

He frowned and leaned back in the seat. Her selflessness in the already-selfish situation was sickening.

Other than Sophie’s crying, the ride back to the hotel was silent. Indeed, all thoughts of sex had been forgotten.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie is missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (Early) Valentine's Day everyone! Hope you enjoy the chapter! Have a little angst to go with your day. lol

The trill of her cellphone broke her concentration yet again as she attempted to read her book.

Ashley frowned at the number she had identified as that of one of Sacred Heart’s hunters. She had answered one time, when she hadn’t recognized the number, and after a short conversation where she imparted all the information she had on Sophie, she had begun to ignore their calls.

She had spoken to Jared extensively about her visit with Cherie Lindeman, and she had come to the conclusion that as much as they might help Sophie, they were not to be trusted. Of course, Jared had told her as much before she had foolishly contacted them, but she had felt she had no option but to at least _try_. However, her conversation with the detective and guild informant had illuminated her to the fact that even though she knew Mikhail needed to be eliminated, they couldn’t be trusted around nonviolent vampires. There would be no mercy. The fact that they were a vampire was damning enough to warrant their deaths, regardless of whether they actively chose to harm humans or not.

Jared was stirred from his slumber by her phone’s ringing. It was only four in the afternoon and Ashley was visiting despite the fact that Jared was nocturnal because she had a day off work and she couldn’t stay late and keep his schedule. She had work during the daytime hours, after all, and so even if he was asleep, it was nice to be in his presence.

“Turn it off,” he groaned, shielding his eyes against the lamp she had turned on in order to read.

“Sorry,” she whispered, careful not to disturb his sleep more than she had to. She quickly rejected the call and turned her phone on silent. She wished blocking phone numbers wasn’t an extra feature on her cheap phone plan and required her to pay a fee to allow it. Then again, it was helpful to know just how keen they were to make contact with her. The more they called, the more suspicious she became. Any normal person would have taken into account that the receiver of their calls did not want to answer, and would respect that. Kingsman, her contact to Sacred Heart, had no such compulsion, and that made her exponentially more reticent towards the hunter guild.

She sighed softly as she tucked her phone into her pocket and turned back to her book. It was some long-lost vampire literature from the time when Jared had been turned. At that time, the governments had not been aware of vampires and therefore had not made an effort to restrict information on them. However, only vampires who were alive now had access to such literature, and that was fine and well because vampires didn’t need to be protected from their own kind. Not in the way that these books would warrant, anyway.

Sophie had been missing for a while now. The longer her best friend was gone, the more Ashley’s concern grew. She wasn’t going to give up on Sophie—she instinctively knew that Sophie was alive. It was a feeling that she couldn’t explain, and she admitted that it might be willful denial, but she wasn’t going to give up. That wasn’t an option.

She hadn’t been in touch with Sophie’s other circle of friends, specifically Dean Weiss and Kenneth Matherson, mostly because they had never had anything in common other than their friendship with Sophie, but she thought about calling Dean. The few times she had met him, he had seemed like a decent guy. Resolving to call him when she had a chance, she turned back to her book. Who knew? They had been the ones to file the initial report, so it was possible that Dean was in contact with the police and they had found something.

Turning back to her book, she skimmed the page until she found where she had left off. Yes, she’d call Dean. She hoped he knew something.

When she was fourteen, Sophie had come home from a sleepover one morning to find police cars lined up and down the street in front of her house. Her father was a prominent businessman and they lived in the safer, wealthier part of Canton, so when the police showed up, it was a rather big deal.

That morning at 9:14 a.m. she found out that her mother had been the victim of a serial killer who had broken into their home in the middle of the night—her father had stayed out late closing a deal—and brutally dismembered Renee Hart. Sophie had never seen pictures but she had seen the bloodstains and it had forever given her a fear of blood. For a while, even the sight of red was enough to make her feel nauseous.

That school year, Sophie met Dean and later Kenneth. Her new friends had supported her through her dark times, even if they hadn’t been there during the incident, and that fact alone had made them very close. Ashley, however, had been the one whose house she had stayed the night at when her mother was killed. Ashley had been the first person she had called when she found out. Ashley, even though she was going to a different high school and lived across town, let Sophie stay with her for most of the summer so that she didn’t have to come home to an empty house. Ashley knew her better than anyone outside her family could ever claim to and even though she had Kenneth and Dean, Ashley was the supporting pillar of Sophie’s life.

And that very same Ashley was going to die at the hands of her so-called _mate_ as Sophie’s punishment for trying to save her life in the first place.

It came as no surprise, then, that while Sophie had always harbored a deep dislike for Mikhail throughout all this but had never hated anyone—even him, although it was already well-deserved—she now loathed Mikhail with every bone in her body, every breath that she took, every facet of her soul.

But she could hate him all she wanted without results. There was nothing she could do now—that damned ruby charm was securely around his neck and she had seen it with her own eyes when he tested it out that morning by opening the curtains and standing in the sunlight.

She’d prayed desperately to any god who would listen that the charm wouldn’t work and he would be incinerated immediately as soon as the sunlight illuminated his pale skin.

Nothing had happened other than an imperceptible look of muted wonder on his face. She had been stunned, watching him stand unaffected in the sunlight as though it had never been something he’d even needed to think about avoiding.

The moment the shock and disbelief wore off, she was filled with unfathomable horror and had promptly burst into tears. He hadn’t bothered to ask when she crumpled into a ball on the bed, sobbing hysterically. It had been rather clear that she was hoping for him to die.

Even if she hadn’t wished death upon him for what he’d done to her—although she did—she wished it even more now in the hopes that his death would preserve Ashley’s life.

Sophie hadn’t slept well that ‘night,’ spending most of it crying quietly until Mikhail bluntly told her to shut up so he could get some sleep. They left back for Ornelle the next evening and she remained silent throughout the entire duration of traveling back.

When they arrived at the cold, empty house, Sophie had exhausted herself with her grief and simply threw herself on the couch in the living room—she didn’t want to be in Mikhail’s room even if the bed itself was amazingly comfortable.

She’d picked up a book and listlessly stared at the pages, not comprehending a single word that she read. Soon, she fell asleep, only to be woken by the person she hated most a few hours later.

“Come to bed,” he said, his blood red eyes watching her closely.

She had to restrain herself from snapping that she wanted nothing to do with him, but before the angry words could tumble from her mouth she simply shook her head.

“I’m comfortable here,” she replied quietly but with a hard edge in her tone, closing her eyes again and turning away pointedly. Inwardly, she was furious at herself for not just screaming at him, attacking him, showing him how much she hated him, but there was nothing to be gained by acting out on her anger. So many terrible things had happened and more were coming, but she had no way to release her despair and inner torment.

“Don’t sulk,” Mikhail said coldly, but his voice didn’t hold true irritation. “It’s unbecoming.”

Sophie stiffened at his words and suddenly, it felt like a dam that already had cracks in it was crumbling. She slowly sat up and looked at him, and when she saw just how uncaring he truly was towards her emotional agony, her sanity snapped.

“How… how can you be like this?” she wondered aloud, in genuine awe of him. “How can you even possibly exist?”

He crossed his arms and looked at her mildly, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Sophie wasn’t paying attention, looking down at her hands with wide eyes. “I’ve always had faith in humanity,” she said softly as her control of her mind began to crack. “No matter how bad things would get, how badly people treated one another, there was always someone out there doing something kind, too. I could be having a terrible day but then someone I didn’t even know would just smile at me, wave or something, and it was like I wasn’t alone. I’ve always believed that there’s a little good in everyone, even if it’s buried really deep, even if it’s unintentional. Even a bad person can do good things and change.

She giggled self-deprecatingly, and even she could tell that it was unhinged.

“But then I met you and I found out that I was completely wrong about everything. I met the cruelest, most selfish, most horrible person who has probably ever existed and apparently I’m supposed to stay with him for the rest of my life? The one person who could destroy every bit of faith I’ve ever had in the world is the one I’m stuck with forever?” She burst out into crazed laughter as though it was the funniest joke she’d ever heard.

If she noticed the tension in the room or how deathly quiet it was, she didn’t care. Sophie wasn’t thinking anymore. The words just tumbled from her mouth.

“I didn’t know monsters really existed!” she said, still laughing hysterically. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be truly evil, but you’ve proved me wrong! I’ve been proven wrong about everything! There are people who don’t just not feel compassion or remorse, but there are people who _enjoy_ others’ pain—like really enjoy it! Like it’s nothing that they’re ruining someone else’s life, like it doesn’t matter at all! ‘Oh, you have a knife in your stomach? Let me twist that a little for you—okay! Now, how much does it hurt? A lot? Okay, let me twist it some more! How’s that?’”

“Sophie, be quiet.”

He was ignored. She was now laughing and crying at the same time, tears streaming down her cheeks as hiccupping giggles continued to erupt from her throat.

She went on, breaking down further and further as she spoke. “‘Oh, you j-just risked everything t-to s-save your fr-friend’s life? Good for y-you! Now I’m going to take it away like the heartless b-bastard that I a-am and now you’re g-going to be sad and I’m going to tell you to get over it because who takes the time to c-care about anybody these d-days? Who t-takes the time to b-build friendships? Those are a waste of time, HA HA!’”

“Sophie, _shut up_.”

She was completely unaware of the growing threat standing in front of her. “I m-must be the unluckiest g-girl in the whole universe! It w-would have been b-better if I h-hadn’t changed m-my mind! I can’t live like th-this!”

Sophie was tearing at her hair now, tossing her body to and fro against the couch. She was no longer laughing, only crying. Then, abruptly, she stilled and turned to him with wide, pleading eyes. “Don’t kill her,” she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn’t respond otherwise.

“Don’t kill her!” she pleaded, her voice hysterical in its desperation. “Ashley doesn’t deserve this! She’s my best friend and all she’s ever wanted to do is help!”

When he remained unmoved by her pleas, she threw herself at the floor by his feet. She was on her knees, hands folded together like she was praying, and there were tears streaming from her eyes. “Please, I’ll do anything! She doesn’t deserve to die and she’s my best friend and I couldn’t live with myself knowing it’s my fault and _please!_ ”

He only stared at her stoically and Sophie realized from a faraway place that he wasn’t going to listen to her. Crumpling in on herself, she collapsed onto the ground and let out a horrendous scream, unable to control her emotions.

She was sobbing, babbling, and then her fingers were on her face, clawing at the skin. Only when she drew blood did her captor step in, kneeling down and pulling her hands away from her face. She hardly fought him, just crying and pleading incoherently. Her entire body shook with the weight of her grief.

Finally, the episode passed and he released her hands. She was completely limp, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Silent tears still poured, but other than that her body was still.

When it seemed her tirade had ended, he asked frigidly, “Are you done?”

Sophie didn’t acknowledge him, simply staring at the ceiling emotionlessly. Vaguely, she realized had said some very bad things to him and that she would undoubtedly get in even more trouble after this. She knew she should be scared out of her wits, but all she felt was hollow.

After a few minutes of silence, he suddenly scooped her up and headed towards the bedroom. She didn’t fight him, too exhausted from her mental breakdown to really think about struggling against her situation any further.

She didn’t fight him when he roughly pulled her against him once they were in bed, holding her to his body with a punishing grip. She lay there thinking about Ashley and how her friend was going to die soon, but she could not find it within her to cry. There was nothing left now.

As she was falling asleep, her last, very absent-minded thought was that she hated this emptiness and feeling anything at all, even pain or sorrow or misery, would be better than this nothingness.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikhail show mercy and is summarily baffled by it.

He didn’t even want to acknowledge _why_ he’d changed his mind, but he would not kill Ashley Gibson. He told himself firmly that it was because this punishment was clearly breaking Sophie in a way he did not desire. After her rant the night before he had realized that when her friends were threatened she was most obedient but also the most vulnerable to breaking. He knew that if he killed the Gibson girl it would take even longer to make Sophie even slightly inclined to be loyal to him and he didn’t want to unnecessarily waste time that she could spend adjusting on her grief. Time healed all wounds, but the murder of her best friend was surely something she would always hold against him, of that he was certain. Whether or not he cared about her opinion of him—he insisted to himself that he didn’t—having a trustworthy, respectful mate would be indispensable if things had to be this way.

He would never do this for anybody else. It was only for Sophie—if she wasn’t so important to him, he would gladly kill Gibson and wouldn’t care one bit about the tears that came after. However, Sophie was different and in the end, it wasn’t really his choice whether she stayed with him or not. On top of that, he found himself warming up more and more to the idea of having a better relationship with the woman he called his mate. Killing the Gibson girl would only make that harder to obtain, so in the end her death was actually not conducive to what he wanted, no matter how much Sophie deserved to be punished for her outburst during the meeting with Czarov.

Sophie was still asleep when he awoke and he wasn’t surprised. She’d had a complete mental breakdown the night before. He hated to say it had been disturbing because he’d seen much worse, but seeing Sophie reduced to that state left a bitter taste on his tongue.

However, he knew that he couldn’t spend much more time with her. He would have to leave back for headquarters soon to deliver the charms and when he could, he needed to deliver Jared to Czarov. Neither of those particularly bothered him, but now he was forced to face the one thing he’d been avoiding this entire time: telling his sire about Sophie.

Ezekiel wouldn’t be pleased. In fact, he would probably throw a fit—the older vampire disliked humans greatly in all aspects besides needing them for their blood. The elder vampire was so old that he had completely forgotten that he had once been human and if he ever did remember, it was probably buried within staunch denial. Mikhail himself hardly took the time to recall his humanity and shared similar views with his sire, but Sophie was an exception. Somehow, she had grown on him, even if he made sure never to show her his weakness for her.

Unfortunately, she would see that weakness with her own eyes when he told her that Ashley Gibson would live.

However, there was now the issue of what to do with Sophie while he was gone. He had no idea how long it would take for him to complete his three tasks. He estimated two to three weeks, including traveling time. If worse came to worst with the situation with his sire, then he would be liable to spend even more time away. In that regard, he had no idea for how long he would be gone. He wanted to think his sire would realize that he had no choice in the matter of keeping Sophie, but Mikhail honestly doubted it would be that easy. Ezekiel was not the most sympathetic person and certainly not amenable to change.

Picking up his cell phone after quietly changing into a new outfit for travel, Mikhail dialed the number of a woman who would always obey him when called on. Her name was Kiera and he had turned her fifty years ago when she had been dying from cancer. It hadn’t been out of pity; rather, he had been going through a phase of thinking he needed more manpower and indebting her to him would ensure that he always had someone to call on when he needed something. She had been his constant companion on missions for ten years before he had released her from her debt to let her roam free. Kiera would always answer the call of her sire, though, so he knew that she would be willing to watch over Sophie while he was away. Ezekiel had never discovered Kiera, he acknowledged, but Sophie was a little more difficult to keep under wraps because he had much more invested in whether she lived or died. If there was an emergency with her, he would be obligated to drop everything and make sure she was alright.

The thought of just up and leaving something possibly important for her sake grated on him a little, but he had accepted it at this point. Dialing the number, the phone rang once, twice, and then a third time before a feminine voice answer.

“Hello?”

“Kiera,” he said. “I need your assistance.”

“Oh, hi, Master! It’s been a while,” she said happily. “What for?”

“Where are you?” was his non-sequitur response.

“I’m at Loorpol Port right now,” she responded easily. “But I can catch a train quick if I need to. Where do you need me to be?”

“Ornelle, at home,” he replied. “This is certainly beneath your expertise, but I need you to watch over someone.”

There was a long pause and he could almost envision the look of surprise on her face. It made him roll his eyes. “Really? Who?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here,” he said steadily. “Leave as soon as possible.”

The sound of shifting and muffled footsteps came over the phone. “I’m at a resort right now,” she informed him, but she didn’t sound bitter that she had to leave in the slightest. “Should I check out or will I be back in time to continue my vacation?”

“I don’t know how long you’ll be here,” he told her. “Check out.”

“Alright, Master. If I catch the next train, I should be there a little before dawn. Four or five, I think.”

“Good enough.”

“See you soon, Master!” she said cheerfully.

He hung up the phone. No matter how much he tried to quell her irritating optimism, no matter how much he tried to show her that he wasn’t a nice person and only used her for his purposes, Kiera had always adored and respected him. He could kill an infant in front of her and she would insist that he’d had good reasons for doing it and that it didn’t make him a bad person. Even though he’d saved her life for his own selfish reasons, she treated him as though he was her guardian angel or some such sentimental concept.

He usually found it extremely exasperating, if not a little morbidly amusing, but after his most recent phone conversation he wondered why Sophie couldn’t feel the same way about him. Kiera, even though he’d never felt any kind physical attraction for her, would make a much better mate for him than Sophie. Kiera wouldn’t have a mental breakdown over a friend, although before she’d been turned she hadn’t had many friends anyways.

Even so, Mikhail found that he still preferred Sophie over Kiera.

As soon as he’d hung up the phone, he heard Sophie’s quiet footsteps out of the bedroom and then she appeared in the kitchen. Her hair was mussed and she still looked groggy from sleep, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that she walked right past him without acknowledging his presence. She went to the refrigerator, pulled out some deli meat, condiments, and bread from the pantry, and began to make her breakfast silently.

He turned around to watch her, leaning on the counter behind him. He knew she felt his eyes on her, but she acted completely unaffected.

Maybe she was.

She sat on one of the stools and bit into her sandwich. The way she chewed slowly before weakly swallowing showed that she didn’t have much of an appetite. He wasn’t inclined to say anything until he smelled her tears. He was immediately irritated.

“What are you crying for?” he demanded, a little more harshly than he had originally intended.

She stiffened and then looked up at him with teary eyes. “Not that you care, but Ashley and I used to make this exact sandwich for lunch every day in middle school.”

His brow furrowed. “Why would you make it now then?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I want to feel close to her before she dies?” Sophie spat at him. Her tears intensified and she looked back down at her plate, focusing on eating and pointedly ignoring him.

He was a little surprised at her anger after she’d been so desperate and sad the night before, but Mikhail supposed anger was better than moping and depression. Sophie certainly had her mood swings, though. The very thought of the next eternity with her would be enough to give him a headache if he could get them.

“That’s pointless,” he told her after a moment, just to see how she’d respond.

She glared at him. “Of course it’s pointless to you. You don’t have any friends!”

“And I don’t need any,” he replied coldly. “Look where it’s gotten _you_.”

She was clearly outraged at him and for a moment he wondered if she was going to jump over the island and attack him. Instead, she took a deep breath before putting the sandwich down and wiping her face angrily.

He went on before she could start crying again. “But that wasn’t my point. Your friend isn’t going to die.”

She stilled immediately, unmoving and unbreathing. After a long moment in which she apparently tried to decide if she’d heard him correctly, Sophie looked up at him with furious eyes.

“That’s the cruelest joke I’ve ever heard,” she whispered, her voice trembling with either rage or pain—maybe both. “But of course _you_ would be the one to say it.”

He frowned and his eyes narrowed. “Do you want it to be a joke? Because it will be if you keep insulting me.”

Her jaw dropped and the look in her eyes morphed into tentative hope. “R-really? You won’t kill her?”

Mikhail raised an eyebrow, looking at her as though she was dense.

“Wh-why?” There were fresh tears in her eyes.

He was finding that he really hated it when she cried. Something about it just rubbed him the wrong way entirely. However, he wasn’t going to tell her the whole truth about why Ashley would live. “In the end, no harm was done by your… outburst. As long as you don’t make the same mistake in the future, I’m willing to be lenient with you this once.”

He conveniently omitted that he had despised the way she’d been prostrate at his feet the night before, begging him, and the way she had clearly started to tear at the seams over this. Sophie had the potential to be a good companion, but if she went insane it would be a very arduous thing to be by her side for any long period of time. He already rather liked her company, even if he never gave off the indication that he did, and ruining that wasn’t something he wanted to do.

She was quiet for a while as she digested his words, looking at him the entire time as though she had never seen him before. He frowned at her to make her stop looking at him like that, but she only smiled secretively to herself before picking up her sandwich again. He decided he didn’t like this one bit.

“Thank you,” she mumbled quietly, but there was so much happiness and elation packed into that small sentence he found that he was immensely glad he had changed his mind about sparing the Gibson girl.

“I’m not doing you any favors,” he told her, but his voice lacked any real coldness. “Don’t thank me yet.”

She didn’t say anything, just smiling as she took another bite out of her sandwich, this time with a little more fervor.

He hated the fact that he felt uncomfortable around her now-cheerful countenance, even though the scent of her happiness was somehow mesmerizing, so he silently left the room.

Something within him was stirring and he didn’t like it too much. He was irrationally filled with the sudden need to make sure she always had that smile on her face; she did look so very beautiful when she smiled. He hadn’t truly seen her happy before, he realized, and now that he had he decided he liked it.

But that made him angry, because liking her happiness made him _soft_ , and he was not soft in any way. This was unacceptable. Still, he couldn’t really find it within him to fight the feeling that bubbled in his chest upon picturing her smiling face in his mind.

God damn it all, she hadn’t even been killed and he was still going insane.


End file.
